Metamorphosis
by BelleofRivendell
Summary: Hermione Granger is more than elated about being selected Head Girl and having her own dormitory. How long is the elation going to last when she founds out that she’ll to have to share it with an old acquaintance?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Wishful Thinking

Hermione Granger could not believe her good fortune. Things have gone so incredibly well over the summer. In her sixth year at Hogwarts, Harry and Dumbledore had set out to destroy all of Lord Voldemort's horcruxes and accomplished the task just in time for a final showdown with Harry Potter and Voldemort. Harry had vanquished him in the eventual duel and the wizarding and the muggle world was finally freed of Voldemort and his Death Eaters' tyranny. To top it all off, many of the Death Eaters were captured and sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban prison. It was a slight disappointment that some of Voldemort's followers have fled the country to escape the Ministry Aurors and that Lucius Malfoy was released from Azkaban, no doubt owing to his connections in the Ministry of Magic and abundant affluence. The Malfoys still had some power in certain political and social circles but it was apparent that they lost their once infinitely strong influence over the Ministry. No longer would the Weasleys or any one else ever suffer their evil machinations.

_Lord Voldemort is gone…_ Hermione found that she had to inwardly repeat this many times over the summer just for the concept to sink in. The relief that she felt upon the prospects of returning to a peaceful Hogwarts with Harry and the Weasleys was only equaled by her receipt of the Head Girl badge she now held admiringly in her hands, sitting in the Head students' compartment in the Hogwarts Express.

The Gryffindor girl polished the already shiny badge for the third time that day and pinned it on her robe gingerly to avoid smudging the spotless surface with her fingerprints. She could hardly contain her excitement about the upcoming year in Hogwarts as she sat peering out of the window, watching the picturesque English countryside pass her by. She was selected Head Girl. And that meant that she was going to have her own bedroom and bathroom and a common room that she shared only with the Head Boy. Though moving out of her old dorm had the disadvantage of lacking her friend Ginny Weasley's company, it offered the added bonus of no longer having to listen to Parvarti Patel and Lavender Brown's incessant giggles and banal gossip.

Besides the luxury of privacy, the rumor had it that the Head Boy and Girl were even granted the privilege of being serviced by their own house elf all throughout the year. As much as she felt tempted to resign to being catered to by an over-zealous elf so that she could spare more time for her studies, Hermione felt equally disgusted with the idea of having a slave, no matter what Ron had to say about it. Now that the war was over, she shifted her priorities from her own survival to others' and was much more adamant about S.P.E.W. She planned to speak with Professor McGonagall about dismissing the elf back to the kitchens at the first opportunity. Ron had told her she was "mental" for entertaining such thoughts but she was determined to take her cause even to the headmaster to ensure the discontinuation of the private elfish service in the Heads dormitory. _Yes, that's it_. She would go all the way to Dumbledore if need be!

Pushing her wild locks off her face, Hermione leaned her head against the window and continued to watch the lush landscape rush past her, wondering where the Head Boy was. It had been at least half an hour since they boarded the train and he should have already joined her in the Heads compartment to wait upon the professor who would be briefing them as to their living arrangements and their list of duties. After the Heads meeting, she planned to go back and sit with Ron, Harry, Ginny, Luna, and Neville and discover which classes they would be taking together this upcoming year. _This upcoming year_… Hermione almost shuddered at the thought. In a matter of months, she would be taking her N.E. and the results of the N.E. always determined one's future career choices. She wanted to do well. She _had_ to do well or she could end up with a life-long failure. If her grade history was an indication of the future, her prospects seemed almost guaranteed but still... Even the best of students could let things fall through the cracks if they got over-confident in their skills and knowledge. She was going to focus, study hard, and receive the best N.E. results in Hogwarts history.

Fantasizing about the proud moment when she would be informing her family about her perfect test results and their satisfied smiles, Hermione got lost in her daydreams aided by the silence of the compartment and the monotonous rumble of the train tracks. After several minutes of such blissful reverie, the serenity of the compartment and its occupant was crudely interrupted when the compartment door suddenly crashed open. Caught completely off her guard, Hermione gasped, jumped to her feet, and froze on the spot. Her face contorted with a horror-struck expression as her eyes befell on the tall Slytherin boy standing before her who sported a Head Boy badge on his chest that looked just as shiny and polished as hers.

The Gryffindor girl groaned. "Oh hell! Not _you_!"


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

Chapter 2

The Right Compartment

Draco Malfoy could not believe his eyes. Starting his last and most difficult year at Hogwarts, he was pretty much ready for anything but this. There stood Hermione Granger, one of Harry Potter's muggle-born sidekicks, in the Heads compartment with outraged disapproval blazing through her wide eyes.

"What do you think you're doing here, Granger? This is the Heads compartment. Get out!"

The Gryffindor Girl threw her head back with indignation and pointed with her index finger to the shiny Head Girl badge pinned on her robe, curling her other arm akimbo.

"_I_ am the Head Girl, Malfoy! I have every right to be here. If you don't like my being here, _you_ get out!"

A mixture of a gurgle and a growl ripped out of Draco's throat. He whipped around and banged the compartment door shut. Before he could even think about what to say, his temper got the best of him and the antiphon escaped from his mouth.

"I can't _believe_ I'm going to have to see your stupid mudblood face for a whole year in my own bloody common room. It's just bloody intolerable!"

"Well," snarled Granger, "You'd better improve your language and learn to show respect when you're addressing me Malfoy or you won't have a whole year to tolerate!"

Draco reached for his wand in response to the threat but his opponent had already snapped her wand out before he could reach his. He pointed his wand at her and mentally recited all of the protective spells he could recall, ready to deflect any hexes that might fly his way.

_SLAM_!

Draco nearly jumped when the compartment door opened. He whipped around to see who it was. A short middle-aged witch stood in the doorway, seemingly too busy looking down at a piece of parchment she held in her hand to notice the showdown between the two students. She sported a brown tweed robe and wore large spectacles that hung low and crooked on her large, pointy nose. Her gray hair was trapped in a messy bun, giving her a frazzled look. Aggravated but cautious, both Draco and Granger tucked their wands back in their pockets. The old witch looked up from the parchment and pushed her huge glasses back on her hook nose. She dazedly looked about the room over her spectacles and rested her eyes on the two Heads.

"Well, good afternoon, children!" she piped with a nasal and high pitched voice. "I am Professor Aebitspaicey and I teach Muggle Relations at Hogwarts. Fascinating subject, Muggles. Yes…" She nodded and stared off into the distance for a moment, increasing the already existing awkwardness in the atmosphere of the compartment. Draco and Granger threw an instinctive glance at each other, both eager to pump as much hostility into the fleeting look as possible.

The old witch continued: "I am here to give you the list of Head student duties you are expected to fulfill this year and to inform you of Head students' dormitory rules and regulations."

She looked down at the piece of parchment in her hand once more.

"Now let's see... erm..." she hesitated as she pulled out a quill from one of her pockets and scratched her head with it. She addressed Granger first. "I guess you would be Hermione Granger?"

The Gryffindor girl replied that she was.

The professor surveyed her for a split second and then beamed; revealing her oversized, buck teeth: "Oh, now I remember you, Miss Granger! I had you in my class. Harry Potter's best friend. And may I say that I think you are the smartest witch I have ever taught and you are muggle-born! How fascinating!"

Granger grinned at this unexpected compliment and Draco scoffed at it. Seemingly oblivious to the disapproving sound Draco made, the professor then turned to address him: "And you must be Draco Malfoy?" she asked nasally from behind her crooked glasses, though with considerably less cheer in her voice than when she addressed Granger. The blond haired boy took a deep breath and drew himself up at the sound of his name, expecting a similar compliment.

"I don't remember you, Mr. Malfoy," said the professor. "But then again, I would not have expected _you_ to take one of my classes."

Draco deflated. From the corner of his eye, he noticed that Granger's grin now turned into an infuriating smug. _It started already_… He thought as he tried to compose himself. He should have known that nothing good was going to come out of this year. No more compliments, no more privileges, no more respect…

"Well now let us get to the business at hand," Professor Aebitspaicey continued interrupting his thoughts and started to read from the piece of parchment in her hand, checking off every item with her quill.

"Here is the list of things you need to do as Head students: You are to patrol the castle corridors between nine and ten o'clock every week night and make sure that all students except prefects are in their dormitories. Due to the removal of the threat of You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters, Hogsmeade visits are now allowed every Saturday after Michaelmas between the hours of eleven to three o'clock in the afternoon for seventh years. You are to patrol Hogsmeade during this time and ensure that the code of conduct of Hogwarts students comply with the school standards. You are also to represent the student body in regards to concerns and issues and report to the Deputy Head Mistress, Professor McGonagall every week. Your first meeting with her is tomorrow morning at seven thirty. You may be asked by your teachers or the Head Master to fulfill various assignments that may need your access to the Restricted Section of the library, to which you have been given permission to enter. You are, of course, expected to share these responsibilities equally and fairly."

At this announcement, Granger beamed and Draco groaned. The old witch, however, continued as before, still seemingly oblivious to either response.

"Now, as to the Heads dormitory accommodations, you will have your own common room. And each of you will have his or her own private quarters including a bathroom. You will also have your own house elf, named Dippy, who will be in charge of your food and cleaning service. That way you may choose to have your daily meals in your dormitory if you wish. Just say her name if you ever need her assistance with whatever you need and she will deliver it to you."

At this announcement, Granger groaned and Draco beamed. The old witch, still ignoring them, continued: "Now if you do not have any questions, I will bid you good day and wish you a great year at Hogwarts."

She paused for an instant to wait for the questions. Neither Granger nor Draco had any and so she turned to leave. She slid the compartment door open but, in mid-motion, she halted and suddenly looked back with a mischievous expression on her face. "Oh and one more thing," she said in casual tone that contrasted the archness on her features, "I probably don't need to remind either of you that dueling is prohibited for Head students as well." She flashed a piercing look at Granger and Draco, bowed her head, and shut the door, leaving them both dumbfounded.

"Thank you Professor Aebitspaicey and it's a pleasure to see you again!" Granger recovering first, her voice weaning as the professor vanished out of sight.

Draco quickly spun around and found her staring at him looking severely crestfallen. The Slytherin boy took a deep breath and prepared himself to spew out pure venom. But before he could open his mouth, the Gryffindor growled.

"Before I go back to my friends let's just get one thing straight Malfoy! Your glory days of bullying me, boasting about your pure lineage, and crapping on mine are long gone. You are no longer the precious, privileged Prince of Slytherin. Every one knows what an evil father you have now and they also know that he no longer has any say so in Hogwarts and Ministry matters. So you step a toe out of line with me one more time and I will not hesitate to hex you into pieces!"

Tossing her bushy locks, she stormed out of the compartment before he could make a come back, leaving Draco deflated for the second time that day.

* * *

Infuriated at the turn of events, Draco exhaled and shook his head in disbelief in his terrible luck. He slung himself down on the seat in the Heads compartment unceremoniously and wrapped his arms protectively around his chest. He knew he had lost his temper despite himself when he first saw the Gryffindor girl but how could he have helped it? Of the fifty female students in his year, the Head Girl _had_ to be Hermione Granger! He didn't mean to come out so strong and call her a "mudblood." It was more out of force of habit than anything else that he threw that particular insult at her. As soon as the words had escaped his lips he regretted it, though it was too late to take it back.

Draco dropped his head into his hands and ran his fingers through his shaggy, platinum blonde hair. This just added as a cherry on top of all the things that were going wrong in his life. The Dark Lord had been vanquished and not too long ago his father had been released from Azkaban. When his father Lucius came home he was cloaked in a permanently bad mood. He lost his former cool, calm, and collected composure and became sullen, terse, and irritable. Undoubtedly, his year in Azkaban had worn him out psychologically by forcing him to face his worst memories every second he was locked down with the Dementors, in utter isolation. Unable to adjust to being at home and having lost the power that he sustained from being a supporter of the Dark Lord, Lucius dealt with his inner demons by taking all of his frustrations out on him, his mother Narcissa, and the unfortunate house elf Pimett, who shouldered all of the manor's chores since they lost Dobby. Draco's once tolerably agreeable home was now a prison where he suffered his father's screams and streams of insults at him that even lead to occasional hexes and slaps that landed on the blonde boy's face. In her desperate attempts at shielding Draco from Lucius' vicious behavior, Narcissa took the brunt of the psychological abuse.

The night before Draco left for Hogwarts express, Narcissa and Lucius went into an intense argument that quickly elevated to an all out fight right in front of Draco. The young wizard, unable to tolerate his father's ill-treatment of his mother, finally stood up to him, an act that earned him a full body bind curse and a couple of well-aimed kicks from Lucius. If it were not for Pimett's timely interference he surely would have been on the receiving end of the Cruciatus curse. Poor Pimett had knelt down upon Draco's body and begged Lucius to stop hurting her young master. Unfortunately, not only did she become the new target for the blows but she also had to punish herself afterwards for going against the master of the house. Draco was not sure how he could have made it out of that ordeal alive if it were not for Pimett's sacrifice. He had never shared this with anybody, but he had an extremely soft spot in his heart for Pimett, who practically raised him from his infancy. It was thanks to her tender care later that night that he now sported merely deep bruises instead of broken ribs. Because she was experienced in nursing him for the past seventeen years, she knew how to heal wounds, fractures, and minor illnesses. The two dearest people in his life, Pimett and his mother were probably going to suffer twice as much in his absence since he would not be around to divide his father's cruel attentions or protect them.

Despite his mother's loving embraces, kisses, and assurances, "Everything is going to be alright my love!" before he got on Hogwarts Express, Draco was in a determinedly foul mood. He was in no humor to deal with any one let alone the Granger girl. However, the weary wizard knew that he had to compose himself and steel his face to reflect his characteristic icy façade to let every one think that Draco Malfoy was back in Hogwarts, bigger and badder than ever.

_Bigger and badder than ever_. Draco scoffed at the notion. After all that he experienced at home and at Hogwarts for so many years, he was no longer sure of his position in life. Seeing his father break down into a miserable human being and his best friends Crabbe and Goyle's fathers' cowardly escape out of the country shook up all this belief in his former role models. Draco never supported the Dark Lord. Never inwardly anyway… He always went with the flow that his father set for him since he was a baby but he understood deep down that all this pure-blood wizardry propaganda was a monumental fallacy. Draco knew that it was technically impossible to keep the blood lines pure without inbreeding. And the thought of that always made him cringe inside; especially when he found out that he was eventually expected to marry one of his cousins that he could only see as a sister. In his view, even if the pure wizards practiced inbreeding for the sake for protecting their heritage, the pure blood lines would die away anyway because of the gruesome consequences of inbreeding resulted in the off springs. Draco was well aware that the violence, insanity, and perversion that ailed most pure-blooded witches and wizards were mainly due to these sordid procreations. Furthermore, though he never outwardly spoke about it, his six years of Hogwarts had shown him time and again that half-blood or even muggle-born witches and wizards could be just as powerful, if not more, than pure-blooded ones. He hated to admit it, but Hermione Granger alone was proof enough that blood status did not matter when it came to magical prowess.

Never before in his life was Draco ever this unsure of where he belonged. He knew that he would soon have to get back to his compartment where his friends Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy Parkinson, and Blaise Zabini were eagerly waiting for him. Where he undoubtedly would be expected to brag and boast about his father's release from Azkaban, to be obnoxious towards anyone who was not a pure-blood or was not in Slytherin. And never before in his life did Draco Malfoy wish so much that he could just be left alone with no expectations burdening his already bruised shoulders.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3  
Dumbledore's Rightful Choice

After the sorting hat placed all first years into their houses, the dinner started with eight hundred eager students hungrily stuffing their faces with the rich assortment of dishes prepared by the Hogwarts house elves. Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Ginny sat huddled at the far end of the Gryffindor table, discussing the events that took place on the Hogwarts Express earlier that afternoon.

"I can't believe that you are going to be stuck with Malfoy for a whole year in that dorm!" Ron spat angrily before taking a much-too-large chunk out of a chicken thigh and tried to chew the half of it in his mouth while the other half stuck out of from the corner of his lips.

"What I can't believe is how they could have made Malfoy of all people the Head Boy," said Harry, his mouth almost as full as Ron's, and took a big swig from a goblet of freshly squeezed pumpkin juice. "I mean his father just got out of Azkaban after serving time for being a Death Eater. What was Dumbledore thinking when he made the selection?"

Harry had been trying hard to hide his true feelings for the past several weeks; ever since an owl delivered only one Head Student Notice with an attached badge while the trio was staying at the Burrow for the summer. Hermione could tell that he was heavily disappointed for not being picked by Dumbledore as the Head Boy_._ Harry's father James was Head Boy and Hermione was sure that he would have loved to follow in his father's footsteps; something that would have made both of his parents proud. To his credit, Harry took the disappointment in stride and tried to convince everyone that being a Head Boy would probably be too much work after all his troubles the year before. "Perhaps it would be good to have a break and be able to concentrate on my N.E..," he said half-heartedly before they left the Burrow. But the news about Malfoy being picked as the Head Boy over him finally broke his silence.

"I mean he could have picked someone else," he hinted, bitterness seeping into his voice, "Someone who comes from a better family _and_ proved their worth."

"Condemning Malfoy for his father's political activities would not exactly be fair, Harry," countered Hermione, "A student's heritage should not be a determining factor for his candidacy for the Head Boy position."

Ron coughed as he choked on the remaining piece of the chicken. Harry's eyes widened.

"So you _want_ him to be a Head Boy then?" he asked accusingly.

"No, of course I don't _want_ him anywhere near me, let alone sharing my dorm, Harry," explained Hermione, "I'm just saying that Dumbledore obviously made his decision based on merit,_ not_ family history."

"So what are you saying, Hermione?" sniped Harry with a scowl, slamming his goblet on the wooden table. "Are you trying to tell me that neither I nor Ron deserve to be selected to be a Head Boy then?"

Hermione, realizing that she made a significant gaffe, flushed. "Well, of course not, Harry," she backpedalled, "You and Ron absolutely deserve it. I'm just saying that Malfoy's grades and general aptitude may have earned him the spot that's all."

Ron, having finally swallowed the large piece of chicken, screwed up his face to dispute. "So you're saying he's better than us and —"

"Well, I, for one, trust in Dumbledore's decisions," broke in Ginny. "Besides, why cry over spilt potion? There's nothing we can do now and seeing how Hermione's stuck with that ruddy git for a whole year, we might as well give her support instead of bickering amongst ourselves," she added and threw a covert wink at Hermione.

The Head Girl breathed a sigh of relief and pounced on the opportunity the reprieve provided. "Oh my, look at the time," she piped in unconvincingly looking at her wrist watch," I must be off! I have to find my dorm and get ready for tomorrow. I'll see you later!" She pushed off the bench and turned hastily to leave for her common room before Harry or Ron could protest any further.

* * *

Hermione briskly paced down the corridors feeling a mixture of excitement and dread over her first night in the Heads dorm. It was going to be absolutely wonderful having a private room and bathroom, not to mention a quiet place to study. But the term seemed to have started out on the wrong foot and now it definitely promised to get worse. The Head Girl knew that she had just made an unintentional but serious blunder in front of Harry and Ron. As usual, she was only speaking her mind about what she "thought" was right and fair. But that kind of blunt truthfulness had almost always gotten her into trouble. She knew that her friends were expecting her to spend at least an hour or two with them in the Gryffindor tower, given that it was the first night of the term. Yet if she dared stopped by, she knew she would be in for a headache inducing fight with Harry and Ron. Her only option was to go to her dorm and try to get some rest. She hoped that by breakfast Harry and Ron will have forgotten about their argument or at least have forgiven her for it. However, Hermione seriously doubted that going to her dorm was going to bring her a moment of peace, let alone a good rest. If the hostile scene at the Heads compartment was any indication, she was sure she would have to practice a whole bunch of defensive spells and maybe even hexes if she was going to survive the year with Malfoy so close to her.

It was too obvious that neither growing older nor his father's social downfall had improved the little prat's immature streak. Even worse, the Slytherin boy seemed much more ill-tempered than ever before. Except for when he lost anything to Harry, he was typically composed and confident. Not to mention invariably well-groomed. The Malfoy that walked into the compartment today had traded in his slicked back stylish locks and striking features in for unkempt hair, dark circled eyes, and sallow skin. Even his robes seemed to not fit him properly. _Had he lost some weight?_ Maybe things were not so flowery at home after Lucius' return from Azkaban. Even a few minutes in the Dementors' presence was enough to steal the heart of the most courageous of men. Hermione could imagine the havoc imprisonment would wreak upon Lucius' mind and, indirectly, his family. Malfoy junior seemed to have been negatively affected by his father's return contrary to the popular assumptions. This could only mean that she would have to put up with a good deal more than she bargained for the sake of the Head Girl badge. _An even grumpier Draco Malfoy?_ The very thought of it made the perceptive witch groan. The year in the Heads dorm was not going to be what she pictured.

* * *

After searching the whole castle up and down and mentally kicking herself for not asking a teacher where the Heads dorm was, forty five minutes had passed when, climbing to the fifth floor and turning to the east wing, Hermione finally found her destination, the life-sized portrait of Merlin that hung on the portal of the Heads dormitory, where the great wizard looked busy writing ancient runes on a piece of long parchment in a medieval chamber with stone walls that were mostly covered with thick books. To her dismay, she also found Malfoy standing next to the portrait, leaning against the stone wall with his arms folded across his chest and staring at the floor with an agitated expression on his pale face. He seemed to have uncharacteristically skipped dinner altogether and preferred to come to the dorm early. Upon hearing her footsteps, the Slytherin boy looked up.

"What are you doing standing in front of the portrait, Malfoy? Why didn't you get in already?" asked Hermione, trying to keep her voice civilized and suppress her irritation to avoid another fight. It was barely the beginning of the term and she had already managed to have a row with three people, and two of them were her best friends! Though the fight on the train was bothersome and must have made a terrible impression on Professor Aebitspaicey, it was relatively safe. However, with no friends or witnesses around to come to her aid, Malfoy, given his background and unsavory influences, could be a very dangerous opponent if goaded too much.

"That brilliant idea of yours did occur to me as well, Granger," Malfoy replied crossly, "But we seem to have a tiny problem getting in."

"Oh for heaven's sake, Malfoy! Just say the password!" snapped Hermione, her irritation resurfacing despite her efforts.

"And that would be?" Malfoy asked, raising his eye brows.

"Well it's — it's —"

And at that very moment, it dawned on Hermione.

"Uh-oh!"


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The Come and Go Room

"Yeah, Miss _Genius_!_" _spat Draco."I've been waiting here for you forever. I was hoping _you_ had the password because that Aebitspaicey woman never mentioned it."

The haughty expression on Granger's face slowly transformed into one of confusion. "Well, no — I mean —" she stammered, "Now that I think about it, I don't remember her telling us the password either. And I completely forgot to ask!" And then with a look of someone who just had a brainwave she whipped around and shot back away towards the stairs.

"Where are you going?" Draco called after her.

"To Professor McGonagall's office of course," she said without looking back, and to Draco's annoyance, recapturing her haughtiness, "Where else do you think, Mr._ Genius_? She's the only other teacher who knows the password and the feast must have ended by now."

Draco huffed. It was as if his whole body complained if he so much as took a single step, let alone climb four floors down and then back up again. "You're going to go all the way down to the first floor? I just searched for this Merlin forsaken dorm for almost an hour, walking up and down the castle, and then spent as much time waiting for you!"

At this remark, Granger stopped and turned. She opened her mouth to speak but then closed it abruptly as if she had thought better of it. After surveying him for an instant she said, in a surprising tone of empathy: "If you don't want to come with me, that's fine. Just wait here until I find out the password and come back up."

Draco arched an eye brow. "And how am I going know that you'll come back? What if you go back to Gryffindor tower and leave me out here for the night?"

Granger let out a sigh of frustration, shook her head, and resumed going down the stairs.

"Wait! You didn't answer me!" called Malfoy after her, beginning to feel sheepish about his pathetic predicament.

Granger continued to go down the stairs. "Move your precious feet and follow me if you distrust me so much, Malfoy!" she yelled, her curly locks bouncing on her back as she hopped down each stone step. "I don't have all night to carry on these silly squabbles with you!"

Out of any more arguments to put forth and unable to trust the Gryffindor witch, Draco grudgingly followed behind her down to McGonagall's office on the first floor, his legs and back throbbing in increasing protest with each passing floor. When they finally arrived, they found the office door closed with no detectable light coming from underneath the sill. Granger knocked several times and even put her ear to the door to listen in. But there was no reply or sound. The two Heads waited, in frosty silence, for a quarter of an hour outside of McGonagall's office before they realized the futility of lingering there since they had no idea when the Deputy Head Mistress would be back or whether she would even be back before morning.

"So… What now?" Draco asked, more to himself than Granger, feeling even more distressed and discouraged than he did when he was waiting for her in front of the portal. While he cursed his unrelenting bad luck under his breath, the Gryffindor witch narrowed her eyes and bit her bottom lip, seemingly immersed in deep thought.

"You can always go back to the Slytherin dorm to sleep for the night," she suggested after a long moment.

Draco had already thought about that option but it was even less appealing than going back up to the fifth floor and spending all night on the stone slab in front of the dorm portal. The Slytherin Boy did not want to see any one from his house if he could help it. It was the reason why he had skipped the feast in the first place. He just wanted a moment's peace, some privacy, away from the pressure of keeping up his usual façade, and tend to the bruises and wounds inflicted upon him by his father the night before. But what he could not understand was why Granger was still standing there with him. She obviously had more options than he did.

"What about you Granger?" he asked her suspiciously. "Aren't you going to the Gryffindor tower to bunk with your precious mates?"

For the first time, the know-it-all witch appeared hesitant to answer a question and shifted uncomfortably as if at a loss for words. Draco noticed that she looked just as eager to see her friends as he was his. This made him feel slightly, surprisingly, and awkwardly akin to the brown-haired girl standing before him. He felt some of his anger melt away at the realization that the two of them were in exactly the same situation, at least for the night. The fact that he wasn't the only person in the castle isolated from his friends came as an unexpected but welcomed relief that washed over him and made him feel less lonely. He felt a sudden urge to find out the cause of such a drastic fall-out amongst Harry Potter's sidekicks. But not wanting to push for an answer from the Head Girl, lest she demanded the same from him, Draco decided it would be wise to drop the matter… for the moment.

"So, what now?" repeated Draco, so exhausted and drowsy now that he could no longer form any plans.

Granger bit her bottom lip and considered him. A moment later, she nodded her head and said: "Follow me."

"Where are we going now?" asked Draco as she walked away.

"Just follow me and I'll explain when we get there."

Having very little patience for enigma but even less for waiting for McGonagall to return, Draco pushed his achy body up the stairs until they paused on the seventh floor opposite a tapestry showing Barnabas the Barmy trying to teach trolls to dance the ballet.

"Now what you need to do," Granger began with a patronizing air that exasperated him at every class for the past six years, "is walk along with me back and forth along this blank wall and concentrate hard on the thought that you need a place to stay for the night and —"

"Granger, I know about the Room of Requirement! Remember?" interrupted Draco, his temper rising and his foot pain pounding. It was obvious that _she_ had forgotten all about the events in the fifth year. _He_, however, was not one to forget anything so easily.

"Oh… right…errrm…" stammered the Head Girl, a look of recollection and embarrassment forming on her features_._ Evidently, Draco was not the only one who has had a long day. "Then let's do this together since you already know what to do."

They walked back and forth three times along the blank wall before a door materialized before them. Draco took the lead and opened the door and Granger followed him inside. The Room of Requirement had turned into a breath taking bedroom with a four-poster bed gracing the center, adorned with elaborate carvings on every surface flanked by two matching nightstands. The bed sheets were of an indigo colored silk fabric, topped with a matching comforter embellished with intricate embroidery patterns of gold and red swirls. Two silk pajamas lay neatly folded on edge of the bed, a green one and a smaller scarlet one, each with their own set of matching slippers next to them. The ceiling of the bedroom reflected the night sky, and unlike the enchanted dome of the Great Hall that mirrored the outdoor atmosphere, it rather crowned the room like a velvety, midnight blue painting with innumerous twinkling stars. Flickering candles mounted on golden wall sconces softly illuminated the room while sweet smell of sandalwood perfume filled the air. A magnificent mahogany door with ornate gold inlays led to a bathroom to the right decorated with gold fixtures, wall sconces, an enormous Roman tub, and cream color towels with gold lace trimmings.

As tired as he was, Draco could not but stand in awe of the exquisite ambiance of the place. When he finished inspecting the bathroom, he emerged to find Granger looking around the bedroom, her face contorted with shock and dismay.

"What? You don't like it?" he asked incredulously. If he, Draco Malfoy, who was surrounded by wealth and the best it could afford all of his life, could be impressed by the luxury of this room, a simple muggle-born witch should have been overwhelmed by it. But she appeared too traumatized to respond.

"But — No, it can't be — I mean I was sure there would be — don't understand — where — how —" Granger mumbled, shaking her head and shuffling back and forth.

"What is it?"

"Maybe we should have done this separately — No, no, no. That wouldn't have made a difference —"

"What, Granger?" demanded Draco impatiently.

The Gryffindor girl stared at him, her face turning a deep shade of crimson. She took a deep breath and reminded Draco of a detail he missed as he admired the room's general splendor: "Errrm… There is only _one_ bed."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5  
Silent Night, Awkward Night

"Merlin, you're right!" said Malfoy, his looking bewildered. He closed the door of the bedroom, paused for an instant, seemingly pondering about something, and then he grinned.

"So I suppose _you'll_ be sleeping on the floor. Good night, Granger." He walked over to the bed and flopped on it unceremoniously, spreading his legs on both sides of it. Folding his hands over his neck, he cocked an arrogant smirk.

"You wait just one minute!" snarled Hermione, aggravated by the look on his face, "I am _not_ taking the floor. _You're_ the guy, so _you_ have to do the honors."

With all the courage she could muster, she marched over to the bed to fetch the scarlet pajamas and the matching slippers. She did not feel an ounce of self-confidence; for it was the first time in her life she had ever had to share a bedroom with a boy. Granted, that boy was Draco Malfoy; not a boy she was attracted to. Nevertheless, the situation made her feel extremely awkward. But too proud and determined to let him see her timidity, she held her head high and strode over to the bathroom. Before she closed the door, she peeked out.

"And I expect you to be on the floor when I come out!"

She slammed the door shut.

* * *

When she locked and secured herself within the confines of the magnificent bathroom Hermione's mind was in turmoil with many baffling questions. She was certain that the Room of Requirement would turn into a suite for two people. To her knowledge, the room had never let anyone down before. So why did it give her and Malfoy just one bed? And what was she going to do if Malfoy insisted on sleeping on the bed? He was certainly not the type that could be reasoned with and the last thing she wanted to do was to have a duel with Malfoy in an isolated, hidden space with no friends or witnesses. But how could she convince him to give her the bed without using force? She couldn't sleep on the stone floor; it would defeat the purpose of being in the room. Besides, the very idea of letting Malfoy win and have her settle down on the ground while he comfortably snuggled up on that beautiful bed was infuriating enough to make her scream. _No! _Her pride did not allow it. She might have been inexperienced when it came to boys but she was a Gryffindor after all. And where a Slytherin was concerned, this was much more than an issue of boys. She was not exactly sure of how to make Malfoy sleep on the floor without hexing him, but she was determined that there was no way in nine hells she was ever going to surrender.

Her confidence rising with these bracing thoughts, Hermione turned on the faucet of the tub which filled to the brim with a swirling pastel colored soapy mixture before she slipped into it. After relaxing in it for a few minutes and washing thoroughly, she rinsed herself and came out of the tub. After casting a quick spell to dry her body and hair, she slipped into the scarlet pajamas and put on the slippers. Tucking her folded clothes underneath one arm, she took a deep steadying breath, and emerged resolutely from the bathroom. But the instant she stepped out, she discovered her resolve to be temporary. Her whole body began trembling with anxiety. In an attempt to steady her nerves, she inwardly told to herself to relax as she inched towards the bed, clutching her wand for support.

Malfoy, who had already changed into his green pajamas, appeared to be sleeping in the center of the bed, his eyes closed and his legs under the comforter. The candles on his side of the room were out, making the room dimmer and more comfortable to slumber in. Hermione suspected that the chamber was enchanted to soften the lights according to the occupants' needs and the candles would probably blow themselves out as soon as she set her head on the pillow to sleep. The twinkling stars on the enchanted ceiling seemed to cast no light upon the room as if they were painted on a portrait, and therefore were not only pleasant to watch but also did not disturb the occupants' sleep by casting their lights. The woodsy smell of sandalwood wafted through the air making the chamber an even more sleep inducing place. She had to admit that this _was _the perfect bedroom… except for the presence of Malfoy. Speaking of which…

"Get up, Malfoy!" growled Hermione, "That bed is mine."

The young wizard opened his eyes and stared back at her, unmoved. "Well where am I supposed to sleep then?" he drawled. Despite her nerves, the insolent undertones of Malfoy's unperturbed manner helped Hermione to steel her voice.

"I can conjure the perfect dog house for you, if you wish. Complete with a door and a short chain."

For a minute she thought that Malfoy would surely draw his wand out and hex her into slices for that retort. Instead, he merely scoffed.

"I don't think so Granger. I'm here to stay. I don't have a problem with you being in the bed with me, though. So if you fancy the bed after all, then grab the other side because you're not getting me off this bed, not without a fight. And though I don't feel like dueling with you right now, if you push me, I assure you I will come out the winner. So you have a choice of either trying to force me out of bed with magical or physical means, both of which would be futile attempts, or you can shut up, lay down wherever you like, and let me get some sleep."

Hermione noticed Malfoy's right arm stir under the covers, no doubt gripping his wand to prepare for a possible attack. However, the next moment, he shifted several inches back, creating more space on her side of the bed. Seeing that her other options were limited to either fighting him or sleeping on the floor, the Head Girl decided to get into bed and stay as far away from him through the night as possible. Malfoy seemed to have predicted this outcome too for as soon as she sat down and pulled her legs up over the bed, from the corner of her eyes, she noticed a smug smile on his face.

"Fine, but I'm warning you Malfoy. If you do anything inappropriate I will curse you to hell with no reservations!" snapped Hermione, her cheeks burning fiercely.

Thinking about confronting Malfoy while alone in a bedroom with him was easier than doing it. Losing the argument and hurting her Gryffindor pride were not the only concerns occupying her mind. It wasn't like she was going to share a bed with Pansy Parkinson where she would only be worried about her general safety. Malfoy was, after all, a boy and hexing or cursing her wasn't the worst thing that he could do. There were other – much worse – things that a boy could do to a girl in such a vulnerable position… Feeling nervous and clutching her wand tightly in her hand, Hermione pulled the soft comforter up to her neck, making sure to put as much distance between her and the Slytherin boy. She closed her eyes and, just as she predicted, the candles went out and the chamber was suddenly immersed into darkness.

After what felt like a painfully long period of uninterrupted silence, Hermione could not help but part her eyes to take a peek at Malfoy. He seemed to be laying on his back still. However, she could not tell from the darkness whether he was asleep or awake so, instead, she focused on the sounds he was making. His breathing sounded too light for slumber and this put her even more on edge. It was as if he was waiting for her to doze off so he could pounce on the first opportunity to launch an attack. The fear of being assaulted and violated caused her whole body to tense up in suffocating anxiety. How was she ever going to fall asleep petrified of either being hexed or sexually harassed or a horrid combination of both? Just then, Malfoy's voice shattered the intense silence:

"Don't worry Granger. I was raised a true gentleman. I would never cross the line with you in any manner, especially in a situation like this. So rest easy."

Hermione sensed him roll around with his back to her and pull the covers over his torso, evidently preparing to drift to sleep. By some miracle, he seemed to have either picked up on her thoughts or her loud heartbeat; Hermione wasn't certain. She could not understand how Malfoy had ever been able to pinpoint the nature and source of her distress with such accuracy. And his voice sounded so genuine and serious that she could not help believing him. The fact that he turned his back to her was further proof of his trust in his and, ultimately, her safety. Draco Malfoy was not the type of wizard to turn a blind eye to his enemies. Though she always had just reasons to think him an uncaring, heartless creature, Hermione could not deny that his taking time to ease her fears was nothing less than an act of kindness. After all, if he was observant enough to notice her discomfort and astute enough to understand the reason for it, he could have just let her suffer through a sleepless night just for the fun of it. The young wizard seemed to have stated the truth when he claimed himself to be a true gentleman. Perhaps there was more to Malfoy than met the eye. Perhaps it was time to call for a truce.

_Or perhaps he's saying this so that he can wait until you're asleep and jump your bones_… a voice whispered in her head. But Hermione ignored that voice. The Slytherin boy sounded quite earnest and in any case she could now hear his deep, relaxed breathing – a sign of him being asleep. And perhaps because Malfoy's words resounded with truth or perhaps because she was too exhausted to worry about whether they didn't, Hermione finally embraced a deep and peaceful slumber, her wand still clutched tightly in her hand.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6  
Seen and Unseen

Draco woke up and opened his eyes to a dim room. He was used to looking at a window of some sort when he woke up, whether he was sleeping at home or elsewhere, and that way he could tell what time of the day it was by the amount of light coming through the window. And since there were no windows to speak of in the Room of Requirement, it still felt like nighttime. With slight panic, he checked his watch. It was half past six. Good. There was still plenty of time until their first meeting with McGonagall. Realizing that he had slept in the same position he fell asleep in the night before, he turned over to look at Granger.

Draco smiled. She seemed sound asleep, lying several inches away from him with her back turned, her dark bushy hair a mess, and her wand still sticking out of one hand. For the first time in months, he had slept a full eight hours of undisturbed sleep; an astonishing feat considering the fact that he had, for the first time in his life, shared a bed with someone: A girl, Hermione Granger of all girls! The young wizard's smile broadened when he remembered how shocked she looked when she noticed that there was only one bed. He couldn't blame her. Draco himself was almost as shocked at the turn of events as she was. What a night it had been! First getting stuck at the dorm portal, then taking shelter in the Room of Requirement, and finally sleeping in the same bed with Harry Potter's muggle-born sidekick. If someone had told him twenty-four hours ago about the situation he would woke up in this morning, he would've told them that they had a bit too much Firewhiskey.

He could not quite understand why and how he had fallen asleep so quickly under the circumstances. It probably had to do with the fact that he was away from the Malfoy manor and from the distress of living there. His father had made his life so miserable that Draco recently suffered from chronic insomnia from being cooped up under his tyrannical rule in that household. However, there was something more. Another reason for his tranquility: A smell in the chamber last night relaxed him despite himself, a smell that came from Granger.

When she first walked out of the bathroom, a delicious sundry aroma of jasmines and roses was emanating from the scarlet clad girl that made the already pleasant smelling chamber even more appealing. As delightful as that scent was, it was not what put him to sleep. No, it was much more than that. It was _her_ scent that did it. _Her_ scent alone was responsible for diminishing his recent neuroticism and aggression. So much so that not only did he actually try to console her, but he turned his back on her! Imagine that… Draco Malfoy actually turned his back to an enemy! Now that he thought about it, he felt a bit stupid and embarrassed for trying to comfort her in that way. It was not the Slytherin way or, at least, not the Malfoy way. What would his friends think if they had heard him do something like this? They would think that he'd gone soft. But how could he not reassure the poor girl when he saw her positively shaking from head to toe? He knew her well enough to know that it was not magical confrontation that she feared. He would never admit this to anyone but he suspected that the formidable witch would probably give him a run for his money if it ever came down to a duel between the two. No, it wasn't his magical powers she feared. It was _him_ she feared; what he could do to her besides hexing her. Everyone at Hogwarts knew that Granger was a kind of a nerd. He doubted that she had much experience with boys. Actually, he'd stake ten Galleons that last night was her first night sleeping with someone from the opposite sex as well. Draco found that this was a quality of hers that commanded his respect; no matter how much at odds they were with each other. Openly pledging the assurance of such a virtuous girl's safety, especially in _that_ regard, was the only right thing to do. The young wizard smiled to himself again. This bushy haired, know-it-all nerd from Gryffindor not only brought out the gentleman in him but also placated him by just being herself. She did something to him overnight that no other girl in his whole life had ever come close to. Perhaps she truly was the most powerful witch of her age. And it just now occurred to him that the true source of Hermione Granger's magic was not just her brains.

The Gryffindor girl stirred, interrupting Draco's contemplation. She seemed to have come out of a sound slumber despite her temper tantrum over the sleeping arrangements. As the candles on her side of the room lit up by themselves, she slowly rolled over and peered at him through heavy lids. Abruptly, her eyes widened with shock and she gasped and pulled the covers up to her neck. She propped up on her elbows, uncertainty etched upon her blushing face.

"Forgot where you were for a second there, Granger?" guessed Draco.

The Gryffindor girl appeared to be struggling for the right answer. "Errrm — I guess I did. D-do you know what time it is?"

"It's about half past six. You slept well?"

Granger stared at him oddly. "Oh… yeah," she said in an indecipherable tone. Draco wasn't sure whether she was being sarcastic or plain shy.

"Well, we've got plenty of time before we have to go to McGonagall's office," he put in, beginning to feel hungry. Granger's odd stare changed. Was it becoming a suspicious one? Draco shifted over on his side to face her and tucked one arm under his pillow, contemplating whether to go to McGonagall before or after breakfast.

"So what do you think we should do now?"

Granger jerked back defensively and pulled the covers up to her chin. "What do you mean, Malfoy?"

It immediately dawned on Draco that his last two sentences did not come out right and that she probably thought he was referring to some… other activity. He chuckled. "Now now, Granger," he drawled, unable to resist the temptation to tease her, "You've slept safely as promised. I told you I am a perfect gentleman."

Granger scowled. "Oh, please!"

Draco raised himself on one elbow. "What? I did what I promised, didn't I?"

The Gryffindor witch scoffed. "You want me to give you credit for not attacking a girl in her sleep?" She shook her head. "Some things never change." She jumped out of bed, tossed her bushy curls away from her face and grabbed a bundle of clothes from the floor. With a series of furious stomps she stormed into the bathroom and banged the door shut.

Draco glared after her, his recent aggravation resurfacing. "Well, back to reality I guess_…"_ he mumbled sitting up and threw the covers off of him. He recalled his recent sympathetic thoughts about the Gryffindor girl and began to feel foolish for letting his guard down. He could not believe that he was so daft as to think that his kindness would be repaid by appreciation, if nothing but by a simple gesture of friendliness or trust. The young wizard regretted set himself up to being snubbed by the unworthy, ungrateful muggle-born witch. He should have hexed her, knocked her down on the floor, _and_ have the bed all to himself when he had the chance. At least then he would have deserved his head being bitten off. Already full to the brim with his father's insults and constant berating, Draco was robbed of all his tolerance for even the slightest of maltreatments.

His mood changing into a foul one again, he decided change into his Slytherin uniform and run out of there before Granger came back. As soon as he stood up, he flinched as a pang of pain traveled all over his body. The fight with his father may have been a thing of the past but the aches were like bitter little reminders of it. He was sure that the limbs his father kicked would hurt for many days to come, even after he applied the Elfish Healing Salve his house elf Pimett gave him. After taking off his pajamas and struggling to put on his black pants, he reached for the black sweater he usually wore under his school robe. He tucked his hands through the sleeves and raised his arms over his head, ready to pull it down. Just before the sweater touched his hair, he heard a loud gasp. He lowered his arms hastily and looked back. Granger was staring at him in her Gryffindor uniform, her hands covering her mouth, and her eyes reflecting an intense mixture of pity, horror, and curiosity.

"What happened to you?"

"What are you talking about, Granger?"

Draco continued pulling the sweater over his head but before he could complete the act, the Gryffindor girl marched over to him and grabbed his arm. Draco halted in mid-air and slowly pulled the sweater down, both of his elbows still tucked in the sleeves, his face full of confusion. She raised her hand over his chest as if to touch it but stopped an inch above his skin, tracing her fingers down his torso.

"I'm talking about the bruises, Malfoy. Your whole body is covered with them. How did you get these? Or more like who gave them to you?"

She seemed appalled and yet her tone was kind. Her brown eyes bore into his. She was dissecting his face for a response as if she knew he would not be giving her a truthful one verbally. Draco had not examined his body since the night he left Malfoy Manor. When he was changing into his pajamas last night the room was too dark to notice it and he was too tired to even think about it. And in his haste to get away from Granger, he didn't think about it a few minutes ago either. But it was evident from her reaction that his back looked a real mess. He bended his head and scanned his torso. The front of his body was almost completely covered with black and blue contusions. If his back looked anything like his torso, then it _was_ a real mess. Darn this girl! She had bad timing.

"It's none of your business, Granger!" snapped Draco, smacking her hand away from his chest. "Get away from me!" A wave of embarrassment washed over him and anger swelled within him, threatening to blow over. He pulled the sweater over his head as fast as his aching muscles allowed and began to look for his robe. It was nowhere in sight. He bent over to look under the bed.

"Who did this to you, Malfoy?" Granger demanded, bounding up beside him as he stood on his knees and reached out under the bed to pull his robe out. He did not reply.

"This was not done by any magic I know of," the witch continued, "you must have been disarmed to have taken a beating like this. Someone caught you unawares."

Draco stood up, threw on his robe and, doggedly avoiding her gaze, hurried towards the door, wanting nothing more than to be away from her, away from the humiliation, away from the unbearable memories she insisted on evoking in his tormented mind. But Granger pursued him.

"Was it your father?"

Draco stopped dead in his tracks, stunned, immobilized. The truth shot like an arrow through him. Rage irrupted from an abysmal pool of wrath in his chest like lava from a fuming volcano. A coherent part of him told him to ignore her and keep walking but an urge, the basest, most primitive urge took over his body. It was as if he was watching himself from outside of his corporeal body and was completely unable to control his actions. He whirled around and stumped over to her. Grabbing her wrists roughly, he pulled her so close that he could feel her rapid breathing upon his face. Before he knew what he was saying, his mouth opened and the words ripped out of his throat like a roar.

"Look here you presumptuous mudblood! If I _ever_ hear you say that one more time, I'll make sure it is the _last_ thing you _ever_ say! You are not to utter one word to anyone about what you just saw? We _never_ spent the night here, you _never_ saw this! Understand?"

Draco began shaking her arms with considerable force. This was partly because he wanted to punish her for prying into his private business and partly because his hands were now shaking uncontrollably. He felt terribly exposed and he wanted to cover up his frailty and compensate for his humiliation. The coherent part of him warned him that he had probably pushed the envelope too far with the fierce witch this time. But the Slytherin Boy didn't care. Almost looking forward to it, he braced himself for an all out fight. But Granger just stared back at him with a peculiar calmness and an unidentifiable look in her eyes. Was it compassion? Draco dismissed the thought. Nobody had compassion for him. _Nobody_.

"WHAT?"

He was shaking with rage and her serenity maddened him even more. She just kept staring at him with damned softness in her eyes.

"WHAT?" he repeated, so violently that he spat as he spoke.

"N-nothing_,_" she finally replied. But this time the soft expression on Granger's face vanished. Her eyes narrowed and her mouth curled with pain. She glanced at her wrists. Draco realized that he was twisting them now. He lessened his hold on her wrists instantly, the look of pain on her face knocking him back to consciousness.

"Well, answer my question then! Do you understand?"

"Y-yes," she replied feebly, apparently still hurting.

Draco let go of her and stepped away from her with his arms in the air, surrendering to the coherent part of him and slowly regaining control. As his consciousness re-inhabited his body, a rush of guilt flooded him. He did not mean to blow up at her the way he did. But she pushed the wrong button at the wrong time and triggered a reaction he could not control. He punished her for a crime she did not commit. And he hated himself for it. All he wanted to do now was to get as far away from her as possible. He winced when he saw that the Gryffindor girl, her eyes now steadily filling with tears, rubbed her wrists, trying to ease the pain that he just inflicted upon her. She wiped her eyes with her delicate fingers and raced to the door without looking at him again. The last glimpse Draco caught of her was her red swollen wrist turning the door handle. At that moment he realized that her little, vulnerable body would probably bruise tomorrow, exactly the way his did after his father beat him. He felt a vile twinge in his stomach that had nothing to do with his injuries. He was suddenly sick of himself. Was Draco Malfoy a better man than his father?


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7  
The Heads Dormitory

Hermione wiped her cheeks as she climbed down the stairs to McGonagall's office, trying to hold back the loathsome tears that had a knack for appearing at the most inopportune moments. To her frustration, she always cried when she could not vocalize her deepest emotions. And now she had to go break down in front of Draco Malfoy of all people after spending a whole night with him in the same bed. He looked so depressed and so hurt that it caught her off guard. She was horrified when she saw the contusions on this body and could not help being curious and concerned as to how he got them. They could not have been inflicted too long ago; they looked recent. So she showed genuine care for that foul little cockroach and only to end up being scolded by him. He kept on abusing her and she could not even bring herself to lift her wand to defend herself, much less teach him a lesson. She was too mortified to even think about it. The humiliation of it was too much to be born. _Then from now on keep your nose out of people's business_… said a voice in her head. Yes, that's exactly what she was going to do. If Malfoy was intent on behaving like such a prat, then he could go on getting his butt kicked by whomever he liked. It was none of her business. The fault was hers for even bothering to ask. And now she was paying for it with injuries to her wrists and arms. He manhandled her, hurt her, and probably bruised her. _Oh yes! He can definitely go to hell!_

Her tears receding and her sadness transforming into righteous anger, Hermione speeded up, wanting to see McGonagall before Malfoy had a chance to do so. Once she was done with her meeting, she could go down to the Great Hall for breakfast. The chaos she was thrown into in the past twelve hours took its toll on her body. She was absolutely starving.

Hermione reached the first floor and headed towards the east wing. As she turned left on the corridor that lead to the Deputy Headmistress' office, she heard distant footsteps behind her.

_Oh Merlin, please don't let it be _him!

She perked her ears for discernable characteristics in the noise: The pace had exponentially increased and the sounds of the footsteps got louder. Whoever it was, the person who was treading behind her had a purpose. And since besides McGonagall's office there were only three unused classrooms in this wing of the first floor and the hour was too early for classes even if they were in use, the purpose of the person behind her could only be the same as hers.

_Ugh_.

Hermione quickened her pace, her walk almost becoming a jog. But the footsteps kept up. She increased her speed but the footsteps were now so fast, it outmatched hers. She was only a few feet away from the office when she felt the presence of Malfoy looming near. He stepped in front of her before she could reach the door. She attempted to swerve around him but he leaped in front of her again, blocking her path.

"Granger, wait!"

Hermione raised her chin and folded her arms across her chest.

"What do you want, Malfoy?"

The Slytherin boy stared at her for a moment, looking pale and disheveled, struggling for words.

"You –"

"Yes?"

"Are you –"

"Am I what?"

Malfoy's stare descended from her eyes to her folded arms and rested on her red, swollen wrists. His eyes narrowed and his pale face turned white as a sheet. He looked up at her again, his cold gray orbs fixed on hers.

"I…" he began but abruptly ceased to speak. Hermione heard more footsteps behind her.

"Good morning, Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy," said Professor McGonagall approaching them, her long forest green robe billowing behind her. The two students, caught off guard, attempted to greet her back but only managed to mutter an inarticulate response.

"You are half an hour early for your appointment," McGonagall pointed out as she unlocked her door with a flick of her wand.

"Do you want us to come back in thirty minutes then?" asked Hermione.

"No, that won't be necessary," replied the professor and proceeded into her office. The room was dark and, from what Hermione could make out from the light that seeped into the room from the corridor, the curtains were drawn. McGonagall walked behind her large, rectangular desk and flicked her wand again. The curtains swung open and the room was instantly filled with the bright light of the morning sun.

"I trust you found your dorms suitable to your needs?" she asked while pulling a bundle of parchments out of a pile that stood on the right-hand corner of the table.

Hermione and Malfoy instinctively glanced at each other. Malfoy looked up, suddenly taking a keen interest in something on the ceiling, forcing Hermione to expound on their quandary. "Actually professor," she replied, "we didn't know the password so we couldn't get in."

"Dear me!" said McGonagall with concern on her face, "Professor Aebitspaicey neglected to tell the password again? I am sorry that you were so inconvenienced. I wish you had come to me to ask. Where did you stay last night?"

Hermione glanced at Malfoy again but he was still examining the ceiling with great interest. "Well," she replied, anxiously wringing fingers and attempting a sincere air, "we… we did come to ask you actually. We knocked on the door several times and waited for you about twenty minutes. And then – errrm – w-we went back to our old dorms."

McGonagall shot both of the students a penetrating look from beneath her spectacles. Hermione cringed. She knew that she had spoken with less sincerity in her voice than she would have liked. Why, oh why, did Malfoy pitch the burden of explanation on _her_ shoulders? Between the two of them, he was by far the superior liar. She, on the other hand, had never excelled at the art of deceit. She stole a glance at Malfoy. He remained mute; deflecting the professor's gaze with a masterful deadpan. Hermione was impressed, considering the fact that he had been beaten to near death by someone and fought with her twice since yesterday. And there he stood, looking perfectly calm and serene, like someone who was watching a beautiful sunset. So the rumors were true. The Slytherin boy _was_ a highly skilled Occlumens. After a lengthy moment of surveying their faces, McGonagall finally turned her attention back at the papers on her desk, noticeably unconvinced by Hermione's story.

"I see…" she said as she pulled out a parchment from inside the bundle in front of her. Hermione felt her cheeks burn as panic brewed in her stomach. Was McGonagall going to push the issue to find out the truth about where they spent the night? To her relief, the professor spoke again but this time reading something off of the parchment in her hand.

"The password for your dormitory is _solidarity_ and I expect the both of you to start patrolling the corridors tonight at nine o'clock, sharp." She looked up, her dark, piercing eyes darting from one to the other. "Any questions or concerns about your duties or your… accommodations?"

Hermione could only shake her head as a reply. She desired nothing more than to be out of her teacher's sight. Malfoy, who appeared as if he shared her feelings on the subject, did the same.

"Very well, then. Of you go."

McGonagall pulled a fresh parchment from a pile to her left, picked up a quill, and dipped it in an ink bottle on the edge of the desk. She began writing on the parchment busily.

Hermione spun around and, without looking back, she made a dash for the Great Hall.

*************************************************

When she arrived at the Great Hall, Hermione looked for the friends she desperately needed. With great relief she spotted Harry, Ron, and Ginny eating breakfast together at the Gryffindor table. Seeing them and smelling the delicious Hogwarts food reminded her of how famished she was. As she sat down next to Ginny she also remembered that the last time she saw Harry and Ron she had narrowly avoided a heated argument. Her empty stomach twisted in discomfort.

"Hi, Hermione!" chirped Ginny.

"Hi, Ginny. Good morning all," responded Hermione in a friendly tone, hiding her red, swollen wrists cautiously under the table. She glanced at Harry and Ron hesitantly.

"Good morning..." mumbled Ron as he pushed a large piece of sausage in his mouth, still looking at his plate. It was obvious that _he_ still held a grudge. Harry, on the other hand, simply nodded his head but was able to show her a small but genuine smile. Hermione took this as a sign of truce. She had to clear the air now or she would never be able to eat.

"Harry, Ron, I'm truly sorry about last night. I didn't mean to say anything derogatory about you guys. I was just really trying to put myself in Dumbledore's shoes. I mean, he mostly sees students' grades and O.W.L results. He doesn't really know how vile Malfoy can be. I was just trying to explain –"

"Hermione don't worry about it," interrupted Harry. "I know you mean well and I know what you're trying to say. I was pretty upset that he picked that prat of all people and I guess that made me overly sensitive."

"Harry, I understand how you must feel. I personally think that Dumbledore should have chosen _you_ but I really think that he must've been trying to give you a break from all you've had to do last year. You've been through a serious ordeal and you need to rest without taking on too many responsibilities so soon."

Hermione then turned to address Ron, who was no longer eating and was listening to her with rapt attention. "And Ron, please don't be mad at me anymore. Like I said, what Dumbledore sees is numbers and well… Malfoy's grades were probably higher and he always gets high praise thanks to Snape; no matter how undeserved. That's all. He could not hold a candle to you in character, strength or integrity."

These words appeared to have cast a spell on Ron. He blushed so hard that his cheeks turned the same color as his flaming red hair. He cracked a crooked smile at her. Ginny passed her the toast platter and threw her a wink. The Head Girl smiled and heaved a sigh of relief. She carefully pulled the sleeves of her robe underneath the table to cover her wrists and she dug into her breakfast feeling considerably more cheerful than before. When she was finished, she asked if she could borrow a roll of parchment, ink, and a quill from Ginny, which shocked her and Harry and Ron, for all of her books and school supplies were in her dorm along with her clothes. Luckily, the time was now quarter to nine and they had to rush off to their classes before they had a chance to ask her about her first night in the Heads dorm and why she so uncharacteristically left her dorm without her backpack. As she was leaving the Great Hall, though she suppressed it during breakfast, Hermione couldn't resist the impulse to steal a quick glance at the Slytherin table. Malfoy was nowhere in sight.

*************************************************

After a long day of classes, Hermione walked up to the fifth floor, turned to the east wing, and finally arrived at the Heads dorm portal. After she gave the password to the portrait of Merlin, she walked inside, hoping against hope that Malfoy was not there. The dorm was as magnificent as the Room of Requirement. The common room was painted in dark cream color and decorated in indigo velvet and dark wood furniture while book shelves as high as the ceiling lined the walls, full of numerous thick volumes on spells, potions, astronomy, history, ancient runes, and many more fascinating subjects. There were two doors on either side of the room leading to the individual bed chambers. Three overstuffed sofas lined up to form an incomplete square against an oversized fireplace adorned with intricate medieval style carvings. There was a large coffee table in the middle of the sofas featuring the same intricate designs of the fireplace. Another round table and four chairs with similar medieval motif were set in the western corner, against the bookshelves. The tall windows provided a generous view of the lake and were framed by flowing curtains that shimmered gold under direct light. The soaring ceiling of the room was dome shaped and on each wall there were multiple wall sconces for lighting.

Hermione could not help but wonder at the similarity of the décor of this room and the Room of Requirement from the night before. Though she would have liked to try to figure out the connection, if there was one, she had no time for it. She first needed to do her homework and then go to dinner. And when she was done with dinner, she still had to attend to her Head Girl duties. Hoping that her quarters would be just as beautifully decorated, she looked around the common room to discern which of the two doors would lead her to her private chambers. She picked the one on the left and opened the door. She had picked the right one. This was the Head Girl's room, bathed in red and gold and, to her delight, reflected the splendor of the common room in every detail. To her left, there was a cushy red velvet divan beside a large window that afforded a scenic view of the dark forest, framed by the same golden curtains that hung in the common room. The four poster bed and the two matching nightstands in the center of the room were made out of the material and style that were very similar to the ones on the Room of Requirement. The soft bed sheets and fluffy comforter were red with gold satin trim and the spacious bathroom was decorated with a light beige colored theme complete with aged gold fixtures, marble tiles, and a large tub.

Hermione settled on her divan and set off to do her homework. After two hours of concentration, she finally finished it and left for dinner. She came back to the dormitory at half past eight and, realizing that there was no avoiding Malfoy now that they had to go out for patrol, settled into one of the couches in the common room and waited impatiently for him to emerge from his room or the portal. However, after a quarter of an hour, the Head Boy was a no show. Come to think of it, she had not seen him at breakfast, lunch or dinner and he was not in any of her classes either. Was that just a coincidence or did he perhaps return to his bedroom after seeing McGonagall and never came back out? Hermione strode over to his door and knocked on it several times. There was no reply. Cursing the irresponsible prat for leaving her alone to patrol by herself, she stormed out of the dorm and went off to perform her Head duties.

After an hour of marching around the castle and sending several first years back to their dormitories under pain of losing house points, Hermione came back to the Heads dorm where there was still no sign of Malfoy. She lingered in the common room for a few minutes and waited for him to show up so that she could tell him off for flaking on his duties. But a stab of pain in her arms reminded her about the last time she cared about what happened to him. She grimaced when she noticed that the red patches on her wrists have now turned into patches of purple and scoffed at her own naiveté. She had no intention of being told off and pushed around by that nasty Slytherin again.

After taking a luxurious bath, Hermione dried herself off and slipped into a pair of sleeveless pajamas. She sat on her bed and began gingerly touching the bruises on her arms to determine the extent of her injuries. It seemed hot water, though it made her feel better overall, inflamed the swelling. Cursing Malfoy again, she pulled her legs up on the bed and tucked them under the comforter, getting ready to go to sleep. As she fluffed her pillow, she noticed a small green tube standing on her night stand. She reached out and picked it up. It was marked: "Elfish Healing Salve".


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8  
The Hardest Thing in the World

Draco's spirits were at an all time low. He did not mean to be so rough with Granger. Picking on people verbally was something he learned at home. It was the Malfoy way. Hell, it was the Slytherin rite of passage! However, physical aggression, especially towards a girl, was intolerable for the young wizard. He knew that the poor girl had done nothing wrong by showing genuine concern over the bruises on his body. And how did he thank her? By acting like a blooming arsehole, that's how!

Draco dropped the Standard Book of Spells book on his lap. It was no use trying to study now. He went over every sentence several times for nearly two hours but his mind was too full to absorb any new information. He ran his fingers through his messy hair and rubbed the bridge of his nose. _Why couldn't she just mind her own business_? he thought bitterly. Her timing was so bloody awful. In his defense, he _wa_s half naked at the time she walked in on him. He felt exposed to her physically and emotionally. The beating he received from his father was something he wanted take to his grave. The thought of Harry Potter's sidekick discovering his secret made him feel so vulnerable that, in his agitated state, he felt that intimidation was the only adequate compensation for exhibiting such weakness. Now, however, he was certain that his heart would explode under the weight of guilt bearing down on his chest. Draco treated someone, _a girl_, just the way his father treated him. Okay, maybe not _as_ harshly, but still... The principle was the same. He could not deal with his emotions so, like a coward, he stooped to Lucius' level by taking his frustrations out on the closest person around. The young wizard wished he could take back everything he had said and done. But it was futile. He was a bugger, a gormless bugger for assaulting her the way he did. He would not blame her if she told all her friends or maybe the whole school about his secret, if for nothing else, as a payback for his shabby treatment of her. All he could do right now was to hope that she would keep the whole thing to herself because, deep down inside, he was certain that intimidation tactics would ultimately not work on the powerful Gryffindor witch. _Though, to tell on me would be to tell on her_… a calculating voice inside his head reminded him. In his mind's eye, he imagined Granger's face as she tried to explain to Potter and Ron Weasley how she came to be in the situation where she saw him topless. He almost laughed at it except that he was in too foul a mood to find anything amusing.

Draco sighed and dropped his head into his palms. Remorse pressed down on his chest and blocked his air passages, causing his heart to beat with difficulty. He tried to think of a way to make up for this grave error in his conduct. He wanted to do _something_. He _needed_ to do something. The first, and the easier, step had to be to remedy the physical damage he wreaked upon her petite body. After he returned to the dorm, Draco headed straight to her room and put the Elfish Healing Salve, the one his dear house elf Pimett had given him, on her nightstand. For the next step, the harder one, he needed to see her in person. But, not wanting to face her before he sorted out his thoughts and healed his bruised body, after the meeting with McGonagall, Draco headed for the safest, most isolated place in Hogwarts he could think of. A place where he did not have to face Granger or anyone else, a place where he could receive proper medical care especially now that he no longer had his Elfish Healing Salve. Ten minutes after leaving the professor's office, he had already admitted himself to the hospital wing where, thank Merlin, there were no sign of any other students. With much discomfort, he revealed his bruises to Madame Pomfrey, who first gasped in horror and then forced him to drink a number of healing potions. Once he finished downing the series of medicines including a sleeping potion, the weary wizard ate some food at the nurse's insistence and subsequently drifted to a dreamless slumber on a soft bed nestled between two privacy screens.

After waking up some fourteen hours later, Draco asked for Madame Pomfrey's permission to leave. The nurse reluctantly let him go with several different potion vials and directions as to how often to take them. As soon as he arrived at the Heads dorm, he retired to his quarters to wait for Granger's return. He wanted to talk to her but it had to be the right time. In the interim, he wanted to do something productive. So he picked a text book out of his trunk and settled down on the green velvet divan in front of the window. Except that nothing he read took his mind off of what he had done and what he still had to do.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. The young wizard snapped his head out of his palms and looked up. None of his friends knew the password yet so they could not have entered through the portal. This had to be Granger. Draco's heart skipped a beat and his stomach tightened. His breath left his lungs with a shudder. He slammed the thick book in his lap shut and tossed it on the floor where it landed with a thud. He stood up, walked tentatively towards the door, and paused before it, remembering that he had not yet looked at himself in the mirror since the day before. He must have looked a bloody mess. In a feeble attempt to improve his appearance, he ran his fingers through his tousled locks and tucked his sweater into his pants. When he was done, he took a deep breath and opened the door. Granger was standing in the entry way, dressed in pink sleeveless pajamas with a restrained expression on her face. Draco winced when he noticed that the bruises were already forming on her slender arms.

"I-I just wanted to give you back your salve," she stammered. "I figured you would need it… much more than I would." She held out the green tube before him. Draco raised a remonstrating hand.

"No, you should keep it. I went to the hospital wing today and got some potions. So I should be alright."

"Oh, _that's_ where you were all day. I was wondering what happened to –"

Granger flushed, clumsily catching herself before she revealed her concern about his whereabouts. Too late... Blimey! This girl was so transparent; she'd make a terrible Occlumens. It was obvious that she actually cared about what happened to him. But this was all so confusing. How could she even care a farthing about him after the way he treated her? A strange sense of warmth washed over Draco. Could he dare to hope that all was forgiven now? He inched closer to her and held out his hands to reach her arms. To his dismay, she flinched and stepped backwards. He was right in thinking that physical wounds were so much easier to heal. This was the hard part. He knew he _had to _swallow his Malfoy pride. But since he never had to do that in his entire life, the whole practice was foreign to him. Not sure of what to do next, he surveyed the brown haired girl. Though there was trepidation on her face and she shrank back from him, she did not run away. Despite the urgings of the selfish voice of pride resounding in his head, Draco pressed on, clinging to a small hope of reconciliation.

"Please… Don't… Don't be afraid. I wouldn't hurt you." He moved a fraction of an inch closer to her, trying to determine his physical boundaries.

Granger didn't step back this time. Instead, she glared at him. "But you did hurt me. Just this morning."

_Ouch_. He backed into that one… Draco shook his head. "That will never happen again. I don't know what came over me. I was distraught I guess. But never again. I won't _ever_-let-that-happen-again. I promise."

Granger paused for a moment. Her expression softened. "I guess it was partly my fault too, for egging you on with my… assumptions."

Draco shook his head again. "No, it isn't. There is no excuse for my behavior. It was cruel. You… You didn't deserve it."

"No, I didn't," Granger agreed. "But still… I shouldn't have pried into your privacy."

"You were just concerned," insisted Draco. "And understand this, there are some things that… that I just want to keep to myself. I would really appreciate it if you could just respect that."

Granger's lips curved acquiescently. She nodded. "Of course. Your secret is safe with me."

Draco took another step forward but this time he paused for a reaction before he reached out to touch her. None came. He proceeded to take her arms gingerly in his hands and inspected the contusions on her skin. She flinched as he pressed on a particularly large purple patch on her left wrist. A surge of regret rose like bile to his throat and threatened to choke him.

"Keep applying the stuff I gave you," Draco suggested as he swallowed it with difficulty, "They will probably be healed by the end of the week."

"Where did you get it?" Granger asked. "Elfish salves are very rare and highly effective."

"My house elf Pimett gave it to me after…"

Draco bowed his head. He couldn't complete his sentence. He felt Granger's eyes fixated on him; his forehead burned. He tried to look up but he found that he could not meet her eyes, so he averted her stare instead, his hands still wrapped around her delicate wrists. Her gaze was too intense. Her dark eyes seemed to be penetrating his skin. Drawing on his Occlumency skills, he tried to empty his mind of all memories and thoughts. But everything he tried to cast out seemed to thump around in his mind, demanding obstinately to be recollected. It was impossible. Granger was under his skin now. He wished she would look away. As if she read his thoughts, she pulled her arms out of his grip and stepped away from him again.

"Well, thank you for the salve and… Good night." She turned and walked over to her bedroom.

"Good night," said the young wizard inaudibly as she disappeared behind the door, a subtle feeling of abandonment creeping into his core. A couple of hours ago, he was dreading the moment he would have to face the Gryffindor Girl. But now that she was here, to his astonishment, he found that he did not want her to leave. Besides, he had the hardest time keeping his composure in her presence. What was happening to him? He was not sure. The only thing he was sure of was that the pressure in his chest had considerably lifted and his heart had started to beat again, effortlessly.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9  
Dippy the House Elf

Since it was the weekend, Hermione decided to sleep in for a change. It had been a crazy week what with the school recommencing and sharing Head duties and a dorm (and a bed!) with Draco Malfoy. It had started out badly and was busy throughout, but the week did not go as unpleasant as she expected. She found that Malfoy, though he was back to ignoring her on the second day of classes, was at least cooperating with her as far as the Heads duties went. He seemed to have forced himself to get used to the idea that he was going to have to share his living quarters with an enemy, as she did. To her relief, his initial explosive fury had transformed into a mild sort of animosity. They already started patrolling the school every night and Hermione was pleased to see that he was not abusing his privilege of authority as he did in the fifth year; not in her presence anyway.

_Thank Merlin it's Saturday_! The Head Girl got up, washed her face, and changed into a powder blue, lounging robe. After struggling with her wild locks and, as it was customary, losing the battle, she gave up and went out to the common room to find Malfoy eating breakfast at the table in the library corner. Standing next to him was a short, tiny creature wearing a dirty rag for an outfit. As soon as the Head Girl entered the room, both Malfoy and the little creature craned their heads towards her direction.

"Mistress Granger!" the creature squeaked excitedly and bowed until her nose swept the ground. "It is such a pleasure to meet you, mademoiselle! I am Dippy, your house elf."

Hermione stood on the spot, stunned. With all the commotion of the first week, she had entirely forgotten about the private house elf service the Heads received. The female figure standing before her, from Hermione's experience, seemed quite young and exquisitely beautiful by house elf standards. The most significant feature on her face was her eyes. The elf had big, beautiful, lavender orbs framed by long and curvy lashes. She had a slightly pointy nose and a heart shaped chin framed by small but full lips. Her arms and legs were slender but very finely shaped. Though she seemed a bit too short for her kind, even the characteristic big, floppy ears of house elves seemed to be lost on her for her ears were almost proportionate to her head. As Hermione approached her, Dippy appeared to be wearing a skirt and top combination that looked as if they were originally a light shade of purple and somewhat pretty. The Head Girl felt a twinge of guilt as she stared at the beautiful little creature. She neglected to ask McGonagall to remove the house elf from their quarters.

"Would the Mistress like some breakfast?" offered the house elf, pointing at the table upon which large silver tray stood, containing a variety of delicious smelling breakfast foods.

"Dippy did not know what to bring for the Mistress," the house elf explained, "so she cooked and brought everything." Hermione shook herself out of her guilt-ridden reverie.

"Oh thank you so much, Dippy. You didn't have to do that. And please don't call me Mistress. My name is Hermione. Please call me by my first name."

The little elf's expectant smile twisted into an indignant frown. Panic seemed to be brewing behind her eyes.

"But please, Mistre – I mean… Miss. Dippy couldn't call you by your first name. Dippy would be ashamed of behaving so disrespectfully."

The poor creature frantically looked around the room, apparently trying to make up her mind as to what to do next. Hermione, having some understanding of the house elves' slave mentality, instantly realized that the poor creature was having a difficult time choosing between punishing herself for almost having called her 'Mistress' and not obeying her direct order to call her by her first name. The conscientious witch could not let the elf punish herself for either reason.

"Well then, please call me 'Miss' from now on, Dippy. That would please me very much."

Dippy beamed. "Yes Miss!" she squeaked eagerly, "Now will you take breakfast? Dippy cooked so many nice things for you Miss." She hurried over to the table and began setting a plate and cutlery opposite Malfoy, who seemed to be watching the two females' interaction in amusement.

"So you called for breakfast service?" asked Hermione addressing Malfoy, disdain bleeding into her voice.

"Yes, I did," replied Malfoy, his face breaking into a sarcastic smirk. "Sit down and have some."

Hermione scowled, her hands on her hips. "I don't think so, Malfoy. _You _may be condoning house elf service in our dorm but _I_ don't. I shall speak with Professor McGonagall first thing on Monday about sending Dippy back to the kitchens."

She expected a sneering retort from Malfoy. But it never came. Instead, the young wizard did something that Hermione had never seen him do before. He abruptly looked at Dippy, who was now busy filling a glass with orange juice, with genuine concern on his face. He opened his mouth in response but was interrupted.

"Is Miss unhappy with the service?" wailed the little elf, her lavender orbs filling with tears, "Did Dippy offend her Miss? Dippy tries very hard and will try much harder, Miss!"

"Oh, no, Dippy, no!" Hermione explained, "I meant that it is really unfair to have you service us like this. I just thought you'd be happy to be back in the kitchens and not have to do all this extra work for us."

The elf seemed not to have heard anything Hermione said. She rushed over to the fireplace and, with total abandon, she began repeatedly bashing her head against the mantle.

"BAD DIPPY! BAD DIPPY!" she howled as she continued to smash her skull against the stone. Hermione hurried to her side in terror and tried to hold her down.

"Oh, Dippy, please stop! Stop hurting yourself. I just meant that you shouldn't work so hard without any compensation. It's just not fair!"

The poor creature began to wail even louder, thrashed against Hermione's arms and, finally freeing herself, she resumed her punishment.

"BAD DIPPY! BAD DIPPY!"

"Dippy please do try to understand!" begged Hermione, "This situation is not good for you. You need to go back to your usual duties. You shouldn't have to work twice as hard doing things we can do for ourselves."

But this seemed the wrong thing to say to the wrong person. To Hermione's dismay, the elf, as if she was just ordered to punish herself even more severely, began beating her head against the fireplace with new found ferociousness.

"BAD DIPPY! BAD DIPPY!"

Stricken with panic, the distressed witch futilely attempted to restrain the tiny creature once more. As she struggled, an angry growl boomed across the room.

"Granger, shut up and get back!"

Hermione whipped around to find Malfoy stare at them with a furious look on his face, his eyes dripping with… was it… compassion for the elf? Shocked at his reaction and not knowing what else to do, the Head Girl stepped back and let him take over the situation. Malfoy grabbed Dippy's arms, and with surprising ease, and he turned her over to face him. The little elf struggled to escape his grip, her lavender eyes now red from crying and her head sporting a huge, violently swollen bump.

"Dippy, listen to me," said the young wizard with a gentle tone that contrasted his angry face, "Your mistress is very happy with you as I am. We do not want you to go back to the kitchens. We want you to remain as our house elf for the rest of the year."

The tiny creature stifled a sob as her sad eyes widened. "M-Master and the M-Mistre – M-Miss w-want Dippy to s-stay?"

"Yes, Dippy. We… errrm… really like your service. Don't we, Granger?" Malfoy glared at Hermione furtively; as if daring her to say otherwise. As much as she wanted to press her opinion, the young witch realized that to do so would probably cause the elf to resume her self-inflicted punishment. Despite herself, she conceded the point.

"Errrm… yes, Dippy. I – We _do_ want you to stay."

Malfoy threw the Head Girl a dirty look as he helped the still-sobbing elf back on her feet. He then reached out for his robe pocket and pulled out a vial that appeared to be full of some dark green liquid.

"Here, Dippy," said Malfoy and handed her the vial. "I want you to drink this. It will help you with the pain and swelling on your forehead."

The elf sobbed as she took the vial from his hands. "M-Master is s-so kind to Dippy. Dippy s-shall never forget." She downed the green liquid in one gulp. In a few seconds, the bump on her head shrunk, though it was still bright red. Malfoy knelt down and examined her little face. When he seemed satisfied that the elf was on the mend, he stood up.

"Dippy, I want you to go back to your room now and rest for an hour. We'd like to have breakfast alone," he commanded in a gentle tone.

"Master is s-so good to Dippy. But D-Dippy doesn't want t-to rest. Dippy wants to w-work, Master," squeaked the tiny creature, looking forlorn.

Malfoy snapped his fingers. "One hour, Dippy. Of you go."

The house elf bowed deeply to both of them and disapparated from the room.

Hermione didn't know what to feel. She was beginning to realize that even though her heart was in the right place, the way she went about handling the crisis with Dippy was pathetic at best. Was she going to have to endure being served by the unfortunate creature the whole year? Would speaking with McGonagall or even Dumbledore help? Perhaps setting her free with a piece of clothing? Her thoughts were interrupted by Malfoy, who was still standing in the same spot, his eyes flashing with fury.

"What the hell do you think you're doing Granger?" he asked with an accusatory tone.

Hermione was taken aback. She hadn't done anything wrong. "What do you mean?"

"What are you trying to do? Getting the elf to kill herself with punishment? You offended her by even mentioning that she return to the kitchens. Are you that thick or are you that mean?"

"I am neither Malfoy!" spat Hermione, anger rising within her now. "For your information, I was just trying to cut down on her work load because unlike you, I don't appreciate someone waiting on me hand and foot all day long."

Draco scoffed. "Well, you'd better get used to the idea, Granger, or every time you speak that nonsense, you're going to inflict more damage upon that elf. There is nothing you can say or do to stop her from wanting to serve you."

"There may be a way. If we just set her –"

"NO!" bellowed Malfoy, as if he had already guessed the rest of her sentence, "You _cannot_ set her free. Don't you understand? A house elf is only happy when they serve wizards. Take that away from her and she'll die a miserable, and possibly slow, death. I suppose you already forgot about Winky? I've heard about the incident at the Quidditch World Cup. You think that elf is happy now?"

Her pride swelling up despite herself, Hermione made one last attempt at proving her point. "Dobby was very happy when Harry set him free!"

"That may very well be," retorted Malfoy, "But Dobby is a rare breed. And even if he's happy now, I assure you that if I call him to my presence, he will show up at once. The bond of a house elf and his owners is a visceral one, Granger. You can't just turn it off by ordering, reasoning with, or even by freeing the elf. The only way a house elf would stop serving his master is if he is dead!"

"Merlin, that is awful!" yelled Hermione, stumping her foot in despair, tears of frustration, guilt, and embarrassment now filling her eyes. "I just can't understand why or how this started. This is all the wizards' fault for brain washing them into thinking that they need us to survive. All this superiority nonsense pumped into their minds –"

"However it may have started, Granger," cut in Malfoy, his voice softening, "it is much more than just a mental reprogramming at this point. Your frustration is understandable but if you want to help them, you are going about it in the wrong way."

"But what can anyone do to change things?" asked the distressed witch.

Malfoy shook his head. "Well, you can't. You can only help them by being kind to them and letting them do their work." He sat back down and waved his hand, gesturing at the food on the table. "Come, eat something. Dippy prepared all this food for us. Don't let it go to waste."

Hermione, shocked by Malfoy's grasp of the predicament of house elves and his gentle treatment of them, could not help but probe. She cast a skeptical look. "Dobby said that your family treated him very ill, Malfoy. How come you're so kind to Dippy?"

"My _family_ may have been," replied Malfoy, looking at his plate, his voice strained, "But not _me_. I don't… dislike house elves."

"I take it then, that you're quite fond of Pimett?" inquired the perceptive witch.

The Slytherin Boy seemed oddly flushed. "She's okay. So are you gonna eat or what?"

"No, thanks. I lost my appetite."

Hermione sighed with frustration and pushed her frizzy hair off her face. She truly felt miserable for causing so much pain for that lovely, innocent creature. Never did she imagine that it would be so difficult to dismiss the house elf from the Heads dorm. There had to be something that she could do to help the poor creatures besides being humane to them. What was the reason why the elves were so captured by wizards in the first place? When she first formed S.P.E.W. in her fourth year, she had done a lot of research about house elves and their enslavement to no avail. It seemed that no book she checked out in the library contained information as to the basis for their dreadful circumstances. No books that she checked out in her fourth year anyway… _Wait a minute_! An idea suddenly popped into Hermione's head: She was a Head Girl with special privileges this year… In a flash, she spun around and headed to her bedroom to change her clothes.

"Hey, where are you going?" Malfoy called after her as she went in.

She poked her head back out from behind her door: "To the library."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

A Broken Nose and a Potion

Draco watched Hermione as she walked out of the room, shaking his head in frustration. He did not think he could ever understand that girl. How a perfectly intelligent witch could have such clueless reasoning in her treatment of house elves, he would never know. The young wizard did, however, appreciate discovering that he was not alone in his outrage over house elves' circumstances. He didn't like to show it, but he was always disgusted to see Dobby or Pimett receiving unfair and, often times, cruel treatment in the hands of his father. Draco was not, by any means, the most compassionate wizard in the world. It was his firm belief that if one was not strong enough to survive, one simply did not. However, beating a creature physically or verbally, who was bound magically to oblige him was just not sporting. It was a cowardly act; not an Englishman's way.

Draco scowled, remembering something he had wanted to do since he boarded Hogwarts Express. He walked over to the fireplace and reached for the large ceramic bowl full of green powder standing beside it. Kneeling down, he dipped a hand in the bowl, grabbed a handful of Floo Powder, and threw the powder into the fireplace. As a green ball of fire erupted above the grate, Draco stuck his head in it and said out loud: "_Kitchen of Malfoy Mansion_!"

In a matter of seconds, his head was hovering in the fireplace of the large kitchen at his house. A skinny creature with big floppy ears was stirring in front of the sink with her back turned.

"Pimett," Draco called out to her in a whisper that was loud enough to get her attention but low enough to not give away his presence in the house. Though he wouldn't have minded seeing his mother, he was not in the mood to deal with his father. The house elf let out a yelp and whirled around, looking thunderstruck. She rushed over to him with a pronounced limp, holding a red-stained rag under her bloody, crooked nose with sloppily bandaged hands.

"Master Draco!" she squeaked in a muffled voice. The elf had large, yellow eyes framed with dark circles of fatigue and a frame evidently too fragile for the daily house work she was asked to perform. Her nose seemed to be bleeding too profusely to be stopped up by the crumpled, soggy rag she held up to it. Crimson droplets covered her wrinkled cheeks and dribbled down her saggy chin. And although she was apparently in pain, the old elf still regarded her young charge with impervious affection and care.

"Pimett what happened to your face and hands?" asked Draco, a mixture of shock and revulsion stabbing his chest.

The creature looked embarrassed, her eyes darting in several directions in succession.

"Pimett has fallen and broken her nose, Master," she replied in a hesitant tone.

Draco arched an eye brow at the incomplete explanation and offered a skeptical stare which she did not meet.

"How did that happen?"

The elf let out a downtrodden sigh.

"Pimett's been a bad elf today, sir. Pimett forgot to bring milk when she served Master Lucius his tea. Pimett's memory is not as good as it used to be, Master."

She halted. The elf seemed to be struggling to resume her explanation, her eyes downcast.

"And?" asked Draco through gritted teeth, guessing and dreading the rest of her story.

"And… Master Lucius set Pimett's hands on fire as a punishment. So, Pimett ran to the kitchen to put out her hands when she tripped and fell on her face, sir."

Draco felt sick to his stomach. He slipped his hand in his robe's pocket and pulled out his wand.

"Come closer, Pimett."

The elf inched cautiously towards him. The young wizard pointed his wand at her nose and whispered: "Episkey." At once, the elf's nose healed and the bleeding stopped.

"Master is so kind to Pimett!" piped she, a look of gratitude replacing the one of agony on her face. Draco felt bile swelling in his throat and struggled to suppress it.

"I don't know how to heal burns," he remarked regretfully looking at her bandaged hands. "And don't mention to anyone that I did this, Pimett. Understood?"

The creature nodded her head, her huge, golden orbs beaming with adoration.

"And tell me, how is my mother?"

Pimett frowned. She seemed to be fumbling for an explanation once again.

"Her health is well, sir, except that she seems a bit depressed. Master Lucius is not... is not... treating her kindly, sir, and…" The elf stopped. A guilty expression paralyzed her blood-stained face.

"Oooh, what a nasty thing to say about Master Lucius!"

She suddenly jumped to her feet, grabbed a frying pan from the kitchen table, and started hitting herself on the head with it.

Draco yelped in panic. "NO! Pimett! STOP!"

The creature froze at Draco's command, her eyes crossed, her one hand still in the air, clutching the frying pan.

"Pimett, I forbid you to punish yourself for speaking ill of Lucius. From now on, you are to report to me every Saturday morning at the fireplace in the Heads dorm at Hogwarts. You are to give me full account of all the happenings in this house. And if my mother is hurt or sick, I want you to come and tell me immediately after you tend to her needs. Under no circumstance are you to punish yourself for telling me the truth about what goes on in this house. Understood?"

"Y-yes, M-master Draco," stuttered the elf, slowly placing the frying pan back on the kitchen table.

"Do you have something to put on your burns?"

The elf shook her head, her eyes still unfocused. "Yes, M-master Draco. Pimett's… already applied the Elfish S-salve on them... She's already on the m-mend, sir. T-thank you, sir."

Draco nodded his approval.

"Good. I have to go now, Pimett. Don't tell _anyone_ about my visit today. And if anyone asks you about it directly, I give you leave to lie about it."

"Yes, s-sir. It's so good t-to see you, M-master," the elf affirmed with a trembling voice. And as Draco pulled his head out of the whirlwind of the green flames, the tiny creature wobbled on the spot and collapsed on her knees, cradling the rapidly swelling spot on her head with her burnt, bandaged hands.

* * *

Monday morning brought the first mutual class for the Head Boy and Girl. When Draco entered the dungeon for his first double-Potions class of the semester, he quickly realized that he would have to choose a seat from the few remaining ones with extra care because students typically made their permanent seating arrangements on the first day of the class. After searching the room and finding no seats left up front, he proceeded to scan the dungeon for Granger and located his target sitting next to Potter in the second to the last row with her back to the entrance. They appeared to be talking about something funny, for at that very moment they both burst into laughter. Draco felt a twinge of annoyance at seeing the two Gryffindors already seated and having a good time and immediately diverted his attention to finding a seat in the back of the class. To his dismay, he found no seats there either. A slow brewing panic began to plague his thoughts. What if they noticed him standing there like an idiot with nowhere to sit? He imagined Granger and Potter pointing and cackling at him and was surprised to find his stomach drop with anxiety. He took a steadying breath to stifle his panic. Why did he care about what the bloody Gryffindors thought of him? When no conscious response came from his mind, Draco's anxiety tripled. He frantically looked around for an empty seat and, by some luck, spotted his fellow Slytherin, Blaise Zabini, in the right corner of the room behind the two Gryffindors, waving a hand and pointing at an obscure seat next to him. Heaving a sigh of relief, the Head Boy rushed over and popped his books on the table.

"Blaise_,_" he said, unintentionally donning an even frostier façade than usual to mask his anxiety.

Blaise greeted him with a similar air, though a bit less frosty.

"All right, Draco? I saved a seat for you when you didn't show up last week."

Draco dipped his head to express his gratitude.

"Good thinking. Did I miss anything important?"

"Not really," Blaise replied and nodded his head to indicate Granger. "Just the stupid mud blood acting like a bloody know-it-all. And I think we're going to start a very difficult potion today. Anyway, that's what Snape said last time."

Draco couldn't help but wince when he heard Blaise call Granger a mud blood. He felt the twinge of annoyance tugging at his chest again. What was wrong with him today? Why was he so twitchy about anything concerning that bushy-headed witch? But before he could ponder on his oscillating mood, the Head Boy snapped out of his reverie as the Potions Master glided in, his customary outfit, the black robe, fluttering on either side of him like a bat's wings. The class, as always, sunk into a deep silence in the professor's weighty presence. Snape walked over to the black board, his wand already in this hand. He waved it once and a neatly written, lengthy set of instructions appeared, covering the whole of the black surface. He spun around dramatically to face the students who were now gawking at the board, flabbergasted at the amount of ingredients and specific instructions this new potion required.

"Today you are going to learn a new potion," Snape hissed. "It is the hardest potion you have ever attempted to brew in your short history in Hogwarts. It is beyond the N.E.W.T level requirements. So I suggest you pay attention."

Draco observed that Snape's last sentence was accented with a sneering gaze directed at Potter, his favorite prey in the school, and enjoyed a gleeful interruption in his upset mood. However, the brief pleasure that he derived from watching Potter suffer Snape's abuse quickly evaporated as he also observed the look on Granger's face as she glimpsed at Potter with deep sympathy and affection. The young wizard felt yet another twinge in his chest. But what he felt this time was not annoyance. It was something else that he couldn't put his finger on… for the moment. While the young wizard cursed his rattled nerves inwardly, Snape continued his lecture.

"Madame Pomfrey specifically asked for this potion as she is running very low on her supplies. I must warn you that only the most skilled Healers and Potions experts can successfully brew this particularly complex potion. It is called the Omnis Auxilium. Its uses are simple, yet extremely valuable. This potion can heal nearly all magical and non-magical, external and internal injuries to the body within minutes upon drinking it. The only exceptions are a severely damaged heart or a brain. The wizard who seeks to benefit from the potion must be alive. Therefore, it will not work for bringing back the dead. However, even if you are an inch from death, this brew can bring you back. It is, as you see, a very difficult potion to make as it requires 33 ingredients and it is, therefore, very expensive. It will take you approximately three to four weeks to make it.

"Now, each of you copy down the information on the board and begin preparing the ingredients. I don't expect any of you to be able to successfully brew the Omnis Auxilium, however, the first individual who pulls it off, by a miracle, to my satisfaction, he or she will be awarded top marks, a letter of recommendation, and one vial of the potion to keep. The rest will be donated to the school hospital. I require that each of you work separately on this project. And since I don't anticipate success from any of you, no marks will be taken from those who predictably fail at their attempts."

After throwing another furtive look at Potter, Snape pulled up a chair and began going over the parchments on his desk. The students, taking this as a hint, lined up one by one in front of the unusually stocked up ingredients cabinet. As Draco tagged onto the end of the line with Blaise in tow, Granger stood only a few students ahead of him, reading the instructions on the black board with an ill-concealed, ambitious anticipation. It was easy for him read her thoughts, as they seemed to be mirroring his. _He_ wanted to be the one to brew the Omnis Auxilium and get the awards. Potions had always been his strongest subject and he was always the best in Slytherin. Although he frequently tied with Granger in this class, this time he had no intention of letting her do that, let alone win. Draco made up his mind. The winner, no matter what, would be _him_.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

A Sunny Day in the Dungeons

Hermione let out a deep sigh. It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon outside. And yet she had been camped out at a quiet study corner in the Restricted Section of the library since early morning, with only a couple of sandwiches she snuck in to fill her empty stomach. After finishing her homework, she resumed her search for the history of house elves. Her initial assumption about this section containing more information less available to the public was fairly accurate. There were numerous books here pertaining to the behavioral evolution of the unfortunate elves, however, none that indicated why they were enslaved in the first place. It was as if all these massive volumes on magical creatures purposely skipped the original cause for the enslavement. Even though she felt like giving up on her research several times in the past seven hours, Hermione plowed through the substantial data with keen resolve. The vision of poor Dippy repeatedly smashing her head against the fireplace was enough motivation to last her a lifetime. However, her dogged pursuit was interrupted when, from the corner of her eye, she saw a patronus in the shape of a silvery horse silently approaching her. The animal pranced right up to her table and stood before her, neighing and rearing, its luminous skin and hair swaying in the air like ethereal waves.

"Hermione," it said addressing her with a familiar voice, "we've been looking for you. Come to the entrance of the library when you get this message."

As soon as it stopped speaking, the horse slowly dissipated into silvery smoke and vanished. The Head Girl recognized the creature as Ginny's patronus and, tossing her books, parchments, and quills into her backpack, she made towards the exit, curiosity and eye fatigue the only driving forces behind her reluctant resignation. Ginny, Ron, and Harry were waiting for her at the promised location with an impatient look on their faces. They informed her that they'd been looking for her all morning and figured, at last, that she was in the Restricted Section of the library. Upon their relentless insistence, Hermione agreed to take a time out from her studies to step outside the castle with them under the strictest condition that it would only be for a short time. However, despite her wish to go back to the Restricted Section, as the fresh air, the sunshine, and the rare, blue September sky all conspired to lift her spirits, she soon realized how much she needed the break and joined her friends for a refreshing stroll to the Quidditch pitch.

While her friends put in the extra practice for the imminent battle for the House Cup, Hermione mindlessly nibbled on her remaining sandwich, watching her friends zoom back and forth, unaware of the presence of Lavender Brown drawing near the ground-level bench she sat on.

"Hello Hermione!" she presently chirped from behind her, startling the Head Girl into choking on a piece of bread she was about to swallow. She wore a pink robe, light makeup, and a sleek looking pony tail.

"Hello Lavender!" Hermione managed to croak after coughing the piece of bread down, suddenly becoming quite conscious of her bushy hair and unkempt robe. "You look very nice today."

"Oh, do I really?" Lavender responded with no discernible surprise, "Thank you!"

Tossing her lustrous locks, she settled down next to her and crossed her legs. Hermione noticed that, as she sat down, she pulled the hem of her robe up to her knee, displaying her long, bare legs.

"Did you come to watch the practice?" she inquired skeptically. For some reason, Lavender didn't strike her as the type who would be interested in Quidditch.

Lavender shook her head.

"No, I came to see if Ron wanted to take a walk on the grounds. It's such a beautiful day." She looked eagerly at her object of interest, who was hovering in front of the goal-post and seemed to be paying attention to the two girls sitting below rather than the Quaffle that just shot past him through the post.

"Well, they've been practicing for only half an hour so I don't think they'll take a break so soon —" Hermione began but was cut off by Ron, who whooshed down and landed before them.

"Hello Lavender! How… errrm… are… errrm… you?" he stumbled, struggling to untangle his legs from his broom. After he freed himself, he hurriedly pulled off his flying goggles and accidentally smacked them back on this forehead. Lavender giggled.

"Hello Ron. Very well. How are you?"

"Err… M' okay," Ron replied, as he proceeded to pull off his protective gloves.

"I thought I'd take a stroll on the grounds. Isn't it so lovely today?"

"Yeah, it's... p-p-pretty nice," spluttered Ron, his cheeks turning as red as his hair, his forehead now sporting two pink goggle-shaped blotches.

An awkward silence fell among them. Ron tucked his hands in his front pockets and began shuffling his feet, his eyes darting between the ground and Hermione, as if waiting for her response. After a long moment, since Ron seemed incapable of speech, Hermione took the initiative, trying hard not to roll her eyes in the process.

"Say Ron, why don't you and Lavender take a walk on the grounds? It looks like the perfect day for it."

"Sure yeah," shrugged Ron in a lame attempt at nonchalance, while his flushed face betrayed his apparent indifference. "Why not?"

He made to walk out of the pitch with a beaming Lavender in tow when Harry and Ginny landed next to the trio.

"Oi! Where are you going?" hollered Harry mischievously as he jumped agilely off his broom.

Ron turned to reply.

"Lavender and I are going for a walk."

Hermione noticed Lavender flash a satisfied smile and grab Ron's arm, hooking hers around it. This time Ron's face turned redder than his hair.

"Well, hold on, we'll come too, right Ginny?"

Ginny had already removed her flying goggles and was taking off her jacket.

"Sure," she agreed with a delighted air and seized her broom, her hair shining like polished copper under the sun. "Do you want to join us, Hermione?"

The Head Girl shook her head and stood up.

"No, thanks. I think I'm going to go back to the dungeons to work on the Omnis Auxilium Potion. Snape is letting students work on it on their off times."

"Ah Merlin, Hermione!" protested Harry, "Are you really going to attempt to make that potion, buried in a dank dungeon on a day like this? Snape said himself that he doesn't think any one of us could brew it. Plus, you won't lose any points if you don't even work on it. I'm blowing it off. Let Snape make his own bloody potions."

"Well, I have no intention on proving him right, Harry. I'm going to brew that potion. You just watch me."

Harry shrugged.

"Alright, suit yourself. We'll see you later than?"

She slung her backpack onto one shoulder and stashed the remainder of her sandwich inside the front pocket. "Yes. I'll see you at dinner."

Hermione watched the couples walk away, a sudden feeling of loneliness washing over her. How long had it been since she had anyone to take a romantic stroll with? Three years ago, Victor Krum took a keen interest in her before he went back to Bulgaria but ever since then she pretty much remained single while her friends stared googly-eyed at each other. She kept in touch with him through owl mail but it wasn't like they were a couple. At one time, she thought that there was some sort of romantic connection growing between her and Ron. However, they were such opposites in every particular that their slight attraction had quickly diffused by their constant bickering. Harry and Ginny had become a couple last year and Ron had been fancying Lavender Brown for a while. And it appeared that Lavender reciprocated his interest. No doubt, they would soon become an item as well.

Hermione smiled weakly as the couples turned the east corner of the castle and drifted out of sight. Although she rejoiced in the increasingly romantic social life of her friends, something in her nagged her about her own solitary existence. She felt extremely flattered when Victor singled her out among his many fans. But his affectionate attentions seemed like an age ago and fourteen hundred miles away now. While it was her adamant belief that a boy should be attracted to her character and intelligence, she recently could not help feeling that she wanted to be thought of as beautiful as well. Most of the other girls in her year put on makeup and wore alluring outfits to attract boys but all she ever did was study. Suddenly, it was as if she no longer fitted into her social circle. For several years she stood out as an intelligent, studious, head-strong witch. And that was acceptable or even cute when you were little. But now that she was a seventeen year old, she stood out like a sore thumb amongst all these beautiful, made up, giggly girls who easily and openly flirted with boys. It felt as if they figured out something she had not; as if they _had_ something she had not. Hermione felt like an outsider. She wanted badly to fit in but she had no idea how. She could not imagine herself wearing flashy robes and makeup everyday and act in that openly desirous way. She was who she was; brainy, stubborn, and shy. And boys did not seem to be attracted to those things; as this proved to be the case with Ron, with whom she had endless fights that were instrumental in nipping their nascent romance in the bud. It seemed as if boys wanted pretty girls who didn't have too many ideas, who did not challenge them on an intelligent or any other level. Therefore, if a witch obliged a wizard's every whim with the right amount of resistance, she was guaranteed to attract him. But Hermione could not do that. Even if she tried, just for the sake of having a boyfriend, after two days of white-knuckling, she would end up hexing the heck out of the boy who expected her to play herself down while she played up her physical traits. Harry was the only exception to this typical immature, male behavior. Ginny was just like her and yet Harry seemed crazy about the red-headed fireball. _Well..._ she thought cynically. _Not_ just_ like me. She _does_ play Quidditch instead of studying, so that automatically categorizes her as a 'cool' girl_! No matter how she looked at it, Hermione felt like an odd duck.

Her mind agitated with these dejected thoughts, The Head Girl walked towards the dungeons, past many students who were fleeing from the castle and onto the sunshine after lunch, making her feel worse for perpetuating her vicious cycle of studying while the rest of the student body enjoyed their afternoon off. When she reached the Potions class, she entered the classroom only to find that Malfoy had also decided to spend his afternoon working on, guessing by the smell in the chamber, the Omnis Auxilium Potion. The Slytherin hovered over a bubbling cauldron, so focused on his task that he was unaware of her presence. Hermione's irritation rose when she realized that she was not going to spend the day studying but she would spend the day studying with Malfoy. Why was he even here? Everyone knew that _she_ was the only student in her age who could brew this difficult potion.

_Not the only..._ countered a faint voice in her head. She and Malfoy usually finished brewing about the same time and with similar success level in every class since the first year. _That's because Snape always favors him…_ reasoned Hermione as she inched closer to his table, in an attempt to reassure herself of her unparalleled potion making abilities. She snuck a quick look into his cauldron behind his back before she spoke.

"So how is your potion going?"

Malfoy's head snapped up and, as soon as he laid his cold, gray eyes on her, his face fell into a frown.

"Going swell as a matter of fact," he replied confidently, looking back down at his cauldron and continuing to stir, "I've already added the Beet Root Powder, the element that fights anemia."

"Beet Root Powder?" squeaked Hermione, her voice coming out an octave higher than she meant to. "But that means you're half way done!"

Malfoy smirked.

"Yes, I am. I expect to be finished before the three weeks are up. The only thing this mixture needs now is the eye of newt."

He picked up a tiny eyeball from a tray before him with tweezers and threw it into his potion, which made a hissing sound as purple steam rose out of it.

"And now I'll stir it until all the lumps are dissolved and leave it to be simmered for three days before I add more ingredients," the Slytherin added, with a look of evident delight in her irritation.

Hermione's cheeks colored. Pursing her lips, she marched over to her desk and pulled out a parchment of instructions and a large vial of potion from her backpack. She poured the potion into her cauldron, took several Mandrake roots from the supply cabinet, and began cautiously slicing one according to the directions on the parchment she placed next to her chopping board. After a few minutes of struggling not to look, she stole a glimpse at Malfoy, who seemed to have gone back to focusing on his potion. Before she could help herself, the envy monster in her core overtook her tongue.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Malfoy," she remarked in a tone of honey-dipped venom, "If you rush making your potion like this, you'll compromise the quality of it and never get it to steep properly."

Malfoy continued to stir without a single word or a glance back.

"Though, it probably doesn't matter much," the Gryffindor added, dissatisfied with his serenity, "because the chances of your successfully brewing this potion are quite slim."

Malfoy spun around and looked at her chopping board.

"You mean as opposed to you, who's not even a quarter way into brewing it?"

Hermione's mocking smile faltered. Despite knowing full well that the Mandrake roots were added at the initial phase of the potion and that remaining silent would be the wisest thing to do at that point, the seething beast in her chest overtook her tongue again.

"For your information, I'm almost half way done!"

"Oh yeah? Well, let's see..."

Before she had time to react, Malfoy darted over to her desk and peered into her cauldron.

"Your potion is green, Granger," he pointed out smugly, "Mine is deep purple, the color Omnis Auxilium is supposed to turn before you let it simmer for three days."

The Slytherin crossed his arms over his chest and scanned her face.

"So, we're left with two unfortunate possibilities," he resumed, looking like a cat that just swallowed a canary, "Either you've done something wrong or you're full of dragon dung."

Hermione felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment.

"Shove off, Malfoy!" she spat, casting her eyes down her chopping board, and began slamming the knife on the Mandrake root and pounding it into a purée, rather than slicing it delicately as was dictated by the instructions. Where was a Death Eater when you just wanted to be cursed into the oblivion?

Malfoy leaned in closer.

"Tut-tut," he teased, "Careful, Granger. You're ruining your precious Mandragora root. They're no use if they're smashed."

Hermione ground her teeth to keep quiet as the Slytherin turned towards the exit.

"Well, good luck!" he called out, halting at the doorway, and grinned arrogantly. "I guess I'll see you on Sunday night. You know... When you're done getting past the eye of newt. Because you wouldn't want to compromise the quality of the potion by rushing it. Or you'll never get it to steep properly."

Malfoy walked off, his cackles trailing behind him all the way down the corridor. Hermione cursed. Who was he to challenge her potion making? She might have been less-than-competent when it came to romance, but nobody held a candle to her in academics! Gulping down her indignation, the Gryffindor threw away her smashed Mandrake root, selected another one, and recommenced slicing it carefully. After she was done, she stared at the rest of the instructions in dismay. Just as the obnoxious Slytherin pointed out, she had to wait a whole day to resume to the next phase. Hermione added the sliced roots into the bubbling potion which turned golden and let out a pungent smelling yellow steam that filled the room. The first quarter of the Omnis Auxilium was finally done. It was official. She hated Malfoy.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Bad Habits

Draco opened his eyes from a light but untroubled sleep. He recently began sleeping much better and longer. He supposed this was due to the fact that he was safe and away from his father's constant cruelty. As much as he dreaded it initially, starting school seemed to be a blessing in disguise for him as he felt much less moody and his hot temper had transformed into a much mellower one. Unlike past summer, he could now relax a little more when he had time for it. His bed felt so warm and comfortable that he didn't want to get up. Instead, he laid there, staring through the window that offered a magnificent view of a steep, green hill that bordered the school grounds. Thankfully, even though it was cloudy, rain was not expected that day._ A perfect day to be outside,_ thought Draco. Sunny days did nothing for his complexion as he tended to burn easy and peel too much. Yesterday was Michaelmas; and therefore, this was the first Hogsmeade weekend. _Thank Merlin! _He was ready for a change from the tedious routine of everyday life in Hogwarts. Last two weeks had been nothing but a bore. All he did was attend classes, perform Head duties, and brew Omnis Auxilium. He was almost done with the potion and was sure that he was going to be the first to finish. Granger had been unusually quiet and terse around him. A fortnight had passed since the last row between them and Draco was surprised to find himself disappointed. He supposed he was getting used to these bickering sessions with her and beginning to enjoy them a lot more than he ever thought he would. His life at home was one of insipid contradictions: He had a mother who smothered him, a father who abused him, and an elf who bent to his will at all costs. The school environment did not prove all that exciting either since every one still regarded him as the Prince of Slytherin. On the surface, Draco belonged to a rich family with powerful influence in all the right circles. The students in his house practically lined up to become his friend especially after his father Lucius was released from Azkaban. Girls like Pansy Parkinson seemed to be fawning all over him, hoping to be his girlfriend or, worse yet, his future wife. As far as Draco was concerned, they were all in it for the prestige, the money, and the status of being associated with his surname. How could anyone sincerely care about him without also knowing him inside and out? And noone in Draco's world ever really knew him. The truth be told, the Slytherin was quite fed up with the people in his immediate circle and was craving for something more. Something… Something like… a challenge perhaps? Unfortunately, the only people who were brave enough to defy him were Potter, the Weasleys, and Granger. He didn't care for the Weasleys and detested the 'Chosen Boy' Potter. But Granger... _Ah, yes_. _Granger_…

Draco was quite baffled when it came to figuring out that girl. She seemed different than any other witch he had met before. She had a first-rate mind, a stubborn streak, and an ambitious pride. The Slytherin could not believe that a Gryffindor, a muggle-born Gryffindor, could so resemble him! There was, moreover, something in her nature that defied his beliefs about females in general. She seemed extremely shy when it came to boys; quite unlike the Slytherin girls he was used to. He wondered how such a head-strong girl could possibly be so insecure with the opposite sex. While he was quite amused the first time he witnessed her severe panic at the idea of intimacy with a boy, Draco now felt oddly attracted to that quality in her. Some guys might have thought she was too uptight, but he actually found her... What was the word...? Pure? _Yes. _Granger was gracefully pure. She was the most innocent witch he had ever encountered in his life. It was so refreshing to find out that a girl could be intelligent, honest, spirited, _and_ conservative. Unlike other boys of his age, Draco had never appreciated females who were sexually aggressive. Assertive, maybe. Aggressive, never. The young wizard always liked and respected inexperience in a girl and he hoped that one day he could find someone who could appreciate the same thing in him. He wasn't shy or introverted, however, contrary to the popular belief which he wouldn't publicly deny, he had never been sexually intimate with a girl. Once in his fourth year, Pansy Parkinson yanked him away from the Yule Ball and dragged him to a secluded corner to kiss him. Although he was intrigued with the idea of it when she proposed the little escapade, he didn't feel anything when their lips met. Her kiss was sloppy, mechanical, and cold. He liked neither her unrelenting pursuit of him nor the taste of her mouth. It would have been thrilling to find someone who wanted to be intimate with him, not for his wealth but simply for who he was. Granger seemed to be at perpetual odds with him but at least she wasn't one of those fake, simpering, giggling girls in his immediate surroundings. She carried herself with a certain poise that Draco had begun to appreciate once he observed her closely.

_How come I haven't seen this side of her before_? he thought as he stared into the emerald scenery beyond his window. Perhaps the reason his blindness was the accursed prejudice that had been pumped into him since he was a toddler. As he grew out of his "satisfying father" phase, he grew into being able to see people and situations with a clearer perspective. Now that he came to think of it, Granger seemed to be the kind of girl with whom he would be the most compatible. The hours he spent in her company, though she was silent and sullen caused by the Potions competition and the years of enmity between them, were the most pleasurable that he had spent in school besides Quidditch. He increasingly longed for her presence in his daily routine. Her fiery honesty, the compassion she was capable of showing towards creatures less fortunate than her, and most of all, the discretion she exercised in guarding his secret even after he physically attacked her were making her more attractive in his eyes every passing day. The Slytherin recalled the delicate features of the bushy haired Gryffindor, who was now probably lying down in her warm bed just like him, and wondered what it would be like to kiss her. What her hair would smell like, her waist would feel like, her lips would taste like... He felt a sudden surge of fever rush from his head, travel through his chest, and explode in his lower abdomen. The intense heat coursed through his body causing his skin to burn and his heart to race. The Head Boy tried to catch his breath, unable to dispel the unbidden thoughts invading his mind. He could not believe that he just got seriously hot over Granger. _No_!He dismissed the thought. This was an attack of overly produced, seventeen year-old boy's hormones. An unfortunate side-effect of virginity. A fluke. _A crush_…

Draco sat up. He was no longer sure about anything, other than the fact that he needed a very cold shower.

* * *

The Head Boy went down to the Great Hall to take his breakfast after getting ready for his Hogsmeade trip. This served as the double purpose of avoiding a close encounter with Granger right after he discovered his buried desire for her and meeting his friends to finalize the plans to meet them in Hogsmeade. After he performed his patrolling duties in the village, he was to join Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini, and Parkinson for a drink at the Hogs Head pub. As soon as he sat down to eat with the Slytherins, Draco risked a casual peek at the Gryffindor table to look for Granger. He found her at the right end of the table, smiling and talking animatedly with Potter and the Weasleys. He guessed that she, too, would likely be meeting her friends after patrolling since going out drinking on the first Hogsmeade weekend of the year was a rite of passage for the seventh years. All students seventeen and over were allowed to stay out as long as they wanted on Saturday nights. Draco wondered where she would be going that evening, if the sensible girl ever went out drinking at all. He only hoped that it wasn't the Hogs Head pub. He'd been feeling enough discomfort after realizing that he pined for the Gryffindor witch. No need to add to it by spending a whole night in the same pub with her.

* * *

When he arrived at the fountain in the town square of Hogsmeade where the students gathered, Draco promptly looked around for Granger. He caught sight of Lavender Brown, who was glomming onto the arm of Ron Weasley, and Harry Potter, who was holding hands with Weasley's sister. And when he spotted the Head Girl standing with them, all his previous thoughts of discomfort and avoidance were driven out of his mind. For the first time since the Yule Ball in their fourth year, Granger looked absolutely gorgeous. Her wild hair was pulled back in a pony tail and flowed to form shiny, wavy locks. Her cheeks glowed, her lips shimmered, and her eyes gleamed like two round pieces of onyx. She appeared a great deal different than when she did carrying around heavy books looking disheveled or frowning as she bent over her potion for hours on end with dark circles under her eyes. She evidently got her much needed sleep, styled her hair, and applied a little make up. Then and there Draco realized that his former prejudice against muggle-borns didn't just impair his perception of Granger's character but blind him to her looks as well. She was the most complete girl he had ever known. Her exquisite beauty, inside and outside, made his head spin. At that moment, he wished that he hadn't spent years insulting her when he should have been trying to win her over. He could only hope now that he could find a way to improve her views of him. _If I didn't argue with her so damn much I could have a shot with her!_ he scolded himself silently. Bickering with the Gryffindor witch was almost a force of habit for him and, as much as it decreased his chances with her, Draco couldn't help but enjoy provoking her at every opportunity. He made a promise to himself to that he'd give up that self-sabotaging tendency and, as she waved good-bye to her friends, he made towards her.

"There you are, Granger!" he greeted her merrily, in an effort to start a pleasant conversation for a change.

When her eyes met his, Granger's cheery expression changed into one of agitation.

"Alright, Malfoy," she snapped, "Let's get this over with as soon as possible."

She hastened in the direction of the popular market place, towards the heart of town. Draco trailed after her.

"Somebody's in a bad mood today. Woke up on the wrong side of the bed?"

"I woke up on the right side of the bed. As a matter of fact, I was very happy until I came here."

"What happened then?"

"I saw you."

"Aaaw," Draco taunted her, unfazed by her swipe, "Miss Little Can-do-it-all still upset about her abysmal potion making skills? Surely, Granger, if you had asked me for help, I would've been happy to help you. I am a gentleman after all. But then again, you found that out already —"

"I don't need your help, Malfoy!"Granger cut in, her face blushing at the hint of their night at the Room of Requirement. "And I will be the one delivering the best batch!"

It unsettled Draco to hear that she was so confident about the potion, which was due on Monday morning. Could she really be finished brewing it by now? As worried as he was about the possibility of losing the Potions awards to her, it also pleased him to detect her embarrassment about the night they spent together in the same bed. He made a mental note to explore her real feelings about it at the first opportunity.

"We'll see about that, Granger. You see I'm already done with the potion."

The Head Girl stopped in mid-stride.

"So am I," she put in scowling, "I've even bottled it and stored it in my bedroom. So you see Malfoy, it's not a matter of who's going to deliver it first, but who's made the best one. And it's going to be _me_."

Draco scoffed.

"I remember the last time you claimed that you were done with half of the potion, Granger. If that's an indication of the level of your honesty, how exactly can you allege that yours is better than mine?"

The Gryffindor's face blushed even deeper. She picked up her pace.

"Because your foul face would sour up a whole batch of Amortentia, Malfoy, let alone Omnis Auxilium!"

The Slytherin smirked.

"Oh — come now, Granger," he beckoned, chasing after her, "That night in the Room of Requirement, you almost fainted from hyperventilation at the very thought of going to bed with me. You can't tell me that a part of you was excited to be in bed with a boy with my good looks."

The Head Girl whipped around, looking indignant.

"What? Every part of you is disgusting to me, Malfoy! I was just anxious that you'd do something evil – as usual."

Draco sped up and suddenly jumped in front of her, blocking her path. As they stood face to face, a light breeze in the air filled his nostrils, carrying with it an intoxicating aroma of jasmines and roses emanating from her glossy curls. She glared at him, her piercing eyes intensified by long, dark lashes that almost reached up to her brows. The young wizard felt a familiar heat invade his lower abdomen and his knees almost gave out under him. A numbing sensation traveled from his head to his toes, rendering his whole body weak. This girl was seriously getting to him! The Slytherin tried to ignore the sensual attack on his trembling limbs.

"I don't think so, Granger," he pressed on, checking an impulse to grab her, "I'm pretty sure that I'm the first boy you had ever been that close with."

The Head Girl froze for a moment.

"You… I..." she faltered and then recovering herself a little, "as a matter of fact you are _not_, Malfoy. As much a blow this must be to your enormous ego, I wasn't nervous over you. I've had dates with boys before."

Draco cocked an eye brow.

"I see... So you went to bed with a boy before?"

Granger flushed violently.

"N-no. I mean — I — Oh for heaven's sakes! Of course I haven't! I just meant that I've had other boys with whom — I — um — was interested in and I'm not that — inexperienced."

"Oh please! Like who – The only time I've ever seen you with a boy is at the Yule Ball with Krum. And you can't be talking about _him_?"

"Maybe I am," Granger replied, pursing her lips and wrapping her arms around her waist.

"_That_ big oaf? He couldn't keep you interested in a casual conversation let alone a date. I bet you only went with him because you'd never had anyone take an interest in you before. That'd make a girl desperate enough to —"

"Excuse me!" Granger shrieked, her eyes wide open with fury, "Viktor, unlike you, is a very kind and nice person. He treated me with respect and — and — care. That was the main reason why I went with him in the first place and the reason why I still stay in touch with him. Not out of desperation!"

Draco shook his head dismissively.

"You stay in touch with him because you have noone else."

He knew he had overstepped the line but the retort fell out of his mouth before he could suppress it. He half expected Granger to start screaming at him but, instead, she stared at him for a moment and then her lips curled into a vengeful grin.

"I stay in touch with him because he's handsome, a great kisser, and, not to mention, a much better Quidditch player than you."

The Slytherin felt the bite of her words. Hard.

"Really, Granger?" he rejoined spitefully, an odd cramp in his chest urging him to seek out Krum and curse him dead. "So you're not at all miffed about the fact that all of your friends are paired up with someone except you?"

Granger narrowed her eyes.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Draco hissed, leaning so close to her now that he could feel her rapid breathing, "that Weasel-Bee's got Lavender Brown and Potty Head's dating his sister. So where does that leave you? Spending all your time in the library with your nose in a book while they're busy snogging each other."

The Gryffindor's jaw dropped.

"How _dare_ y–? I DON'T HAVE TO STAND HERE AND LISTEN TO THIS!"

She spun around and stomped away, her pony tail swinging wildly behind her.

"Hey where are you going?" shouted Draco, suddenly caught off guard. "We still have three more hours of patrolling!"

She looked back at him, her delicate features now contorted with rage.

"I'm not patrolling with you!"

She turned to leave again. The Slytherin hurried after her.

"You can't do that, Granger. We're supposed to share the duties. I'll — I'll tell McGonagall about it!"

The Head Girl didn't look back this time.

"I don't care if you tell the Minister of Magic about it! Go to hell, Malfoy!"

In a matter of seconds, she disappeared behind the corner of a bookshop. Draco, realizing the futility of going after her, came to a standstill, remorse and frustration presently engulfing his mind. He ran his fingers through his hair and groaned. If only he had a Time-Turner to erase the last five minutes of his life…


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Too Much of a Good Thing

By the time she finished patrolling Hermione's rage had turned into utter embarrassment. She wondered around in the streets of Hogsmeade, even passing by the Three Broomsticks pub once and forgetting her prior plans to meet her friends there in the afternoon. She was mortified about letting Malfoy get to her so much so that she had abandoned a part of her responsibilities and left him to patrol alone. Not to mention, she screamed at him at the top of her lungs and stomped away like a little child right in the middle of the street! A small voice within told her that a big part of her embarrassment was a result of Malfoy being right about everything he said to her. She recently began to feel exposed in his presence. How did he always manage to know what she was thinking or feeling? The Slytherin seemed to be so attuned to her that she was sure he must have put a great deal of time into thinking about her. If it was anyone else, the possibility of being so considered wouldn't exactly be horrible; if anything, she would have been flattered. She would even consider it an extraordinary compliment to have someone pay so much attention to her if... _If he wasn't such a vile, arrogant prat_!

"Oi! Hermione!"

Hermione's head snapped towards the direction of the voice. Harry, his head sticking out of the Three Broomsticks' door, was signaling her to come in. Lost in her thoughts, Hermione didn't even notice that she almost walked right past the pub for the second time that day.

"Hi Harry," she said guiltily and hurried through the door he held open.

"Where have you been? We've been waiting for you for quite a while. You must be hungry."

"I'm sorry, I was... um... patrolling and forgot the time. And yes, I'm starving!"

Together they walked towards a table near the window where the rest of her friends sat. Harry settled right next to Ginny and Ron and Lavender were already sitting almost on top of each other. Hermione paused before the table, trying to decide where to sit and feeling awkward as there were no extra seats. Cursing Malfoy for adding to her self-consciousness around her coupled friends, she grabbed a chair from an empty table and squeezed between Ginny and Lavender. For the rest of the afternoon, she nodded her head mechanically and smiled faintly at proper intervals as her friends ate and drank. As the evening fell, the lights at Three Broomsticks dimmed, the music blared, and the crowd thickened. Since the couples at the table had already had more than their share of Madame Rosmerta's delicious honeymeade, they began to display their affections a little too unreservedly for Hermione's taste. At first they talked only to each other, ignoring her, and then progressed to cuddling and the inevitable snogging. Hermione felt more and more uncomfortable by, especially, Ron and Lavender. Ron looked like he was practically swallowing the poor girl's face. The Head Girl wondered how the two of them ever managed to breathe since, at one point, they did not break for at least several minutes. Hoping to dispel her discomfort or at any rate making her friends aware of it, she attempted some casual conversation.

"So... um... How about those N.E., huh?" she chimed in lamely, not being able to think of any other subject to talk about, "I know I've been studying so much and I still can't seem to keep up with the homework."

But all she heard back from her friends were loud "SCHMUCK, SCHWOOP" sounds as they sucked on each other's mouths. Hermione mentally kicked herself. Did she just ask them about school work while they were drunk on a Saturday night? Who in the bloody hell would pick _that_ topic to break up a snogging session? _No wonder I'm still single… _thought the irritated witch and tried to think of another subject that could possibly get their attention.

"Ehem, ehem!" she feigned a cough and shuddered as she reminded herself of Professor Umbridge from her fifth year.

"SCHMUCK, SCHWOOP"

"So... um... You guys have been practicing Quidditch lately?"

"SCHMUCK, SCHWOOP"

"I bet we're gonna cream those Slytherins this year..."

"SCHMUCK, SCHWOOP"

"Well, we'd better. This is our last year..."

"SCHMUCK, SCHWOOP"

"I mean we can't let them take the House Cup on their way out, right?"

"SCHMUCK, SCHWOOP"

Hermione sighed and began tapping her fingers on the table, her frustration peaking. She couldn't believe that her friends carried on like this in public and so ignorant of her predicament too! She forced herself to look around the pub, in the hopes of finding some sort of relief or distraction from her discomfort. She glanced at the table behind theirs and saw another couple from Hufflepuff with their backs turned to her. She strained to hear their conversation, hoping to eavesdrop on something interesting. But after a few seconds of whispered sweet nothings, all she could hear was: "SCHMUCK, SCHWOOP"

Hermione slapped the palm of her hand against her forehead and gritted her teeth. "_Oh Merlin! Which gods have I offended to deserve a day like this_?" The awkwardness of her position was only enhanced by the resentment she felt for prettying herself up for a night in town. She regretted the hours she wasted in front of the mirror in the hopes of… In the hopes of what, she didn't know. What exactly did she expect when she made plans to meet with two couples in a pub? To enjoy herself while they snogged? Or to meet someone new while sitting at a table with four other people?

She took an involuntary peek at Ron and Lavender, who sat on her right and appeared to be wrestling to see who could eat whose face first, reminding her eerily of a scene from The Silence of the Lambs.

Then she ventured a peek at Harry and Ginny to her left and, suddenly, her hopes were rekindled. They had finally broken off and appeared to be conversing. She opened her mouth to speak and…

"SCHMUCK, SCHWOOP"

… they went back to snogging again.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh for heaven's sake!"

Not having any other choice than to remain where she was as the fifth wheel or go back to her dorm and risk seeing Malfoy there, the Head Girl decided to extend her stay at the Three Broomsticks under one condition: A double shot of Firewhiskey!

She waved at their waitress and ordered the drink. After she downed it in one gulp, she frowned at the bitter taste of alcohol and the fire burning her throat. Since she'd never had a drink stronger than butterbeer before and hoped she wasn't going to have to guzzle a whole lot of the strong liquid to get properly anesthetized.

"SCHMUCK, SCHWOOP"

Hermione shook her head, slammed the empty glass on the table, and ordered another one. When the waitress brought her the second glass of Firewhiskey, Harry, who was the first to recognize her distress, stopped to stare at her, his eyes unfocused, his lips swollen and red.

"Watch it, Hermione," he warned, his arms still wrapped around Ginny, "That's a very potent drink."

Hermione avoided his stare.

"Don't worry, Harry. I'll be okay. Just let me be."

"Hermione, is something bothering you? You've been kind of quiet since you came in," added Ginny, her gaze as unfocused and her lips as swollen as Harry's.

Hermione chortled incredulously. Could her friends be _that_ blind and insensitive to her feelings?

"Not at all. Everything's quite swell. As a matter of fact, I'm in such a good mood_ —_" she knocked back the second double-shot of Firewhiskey, "that I'm going to order another one of these lovely drinks!"

As Harry and Ginny watched her in mounting alarm, she waved the empty glass at the waitress, who promptly came back with another full one on a tray.

"You might wanna take it easy, love," she said huskily as she placed the drink on the table. "This is strong stuff."

Ignoring her advice and the bewildered expressions of her friends, Hermione thanked her and took another swig.

The waitress shrugged. "Alright," she sighed as she set the empty glass on her tray, "But this is the last one."

As the waitress walked away, Harry took the glass of Firewhiskey and put it in front of him. "Hermione, I don't think it's a good idea for you to drink any more tonight," he pressed, "I think you've had quite enough."

Hermione, seeing that her only source of relief was taken away, scowled.

"Honestly, Harry," she snapped as she took her glass back, "you're acting as if I can't handle a few drinks. What's the matter with you?"

All smacking sounds at the table ceased. Even Ron and Lavender was now watching the exchange.

Harry raised his eye brows. "What's the matter with me? What's the matter with _you_?"

"I just want to have a few drinks, that's all. Why is it such a big deal to any of you? You've been drinking all night!"

"We did drink," admitted Harry, "But we've had honeymeade, not Firewhiskey. That stuff is too strong for you. It'll hit you too hard and too fast."

"Oh I see. So it's okay for _you_ to drink a lot but I have an itty bitty drink and you give me hell for it!"

"Hermione," Ginny put in kindly as she straightened up in her chair, "we're not giving you hell for it. It's just that it's a little out of character for you to be drinking like this and it might hurt you."

"You mean I am the nerdy prude who can't have a little fun!"

The Gryffindors looked at each other apprehensively, unsure of what to do. Hermione took another sip of the Firewhiskey, intending to down it all, but stopped in mid-air. Her throat tightened up. Her stomach twisted, threatening her with regurgitation. She put the glass back down on the table. The whole room began to spin around her. As the effect of alcohol engulfed her mind, it also drove out all sense of shame, misery, and loneliness her situation induced. It was as if time and space had disappeared, taking with them the wretchedness she felt. She closed her eyes and slouched on her chair as the sounds, smells, and the conversations around her dissolved into one big blur. At some point, she heard loud voices talking about taking her back to her dorm. She wanted to protest. She wanted to say that she'd rather sleep in the Dark Forest for the rest of the semester than to see Malfoy again. But she could not speak the words. She fell in and out of consciousness for an indefinite amount of time when she became aware of a long, slender pair of arms caressing her waist and pulling her up and out of the patchy haze. Opening her eyes, she forced herself back to consciousness.

"Hi Dean! Where did you come from?" she asked, her speech slurry despite her effort at eloquence, and wondered at which point during the night she had shoved a sock in her mouth. She tried to keep herself upright but she lost her equilibrium, her head lopping back.

"Hi Hermione," said Dean, catching her head with his hand and securing it on his shoulder, "I was just passing by and Harry asked me if I could take you back to your dorm."

Hermione, half aware of her inability to be erect, tried to stand on her feet but they seemed to have lost all feeling and function. She slid from his grip. Dean heaved her up once more. "Come on, up you go!"

"Aaaw Dean! You're so sweet," Hermione squeaked, struggling to support herself. But her feet betrayed her once more. She wobbled on the spot and collapsed. Luckily, the tall boy seemed to be anticipating this very mishap and caught her in mid-air.

"Whoa there little lady!" he chuckled as she plunged face first onto his chest. Managing to free one of his hands, he pulled out his wand and pointed it at Hermione. As he waved it, the drunken girl magically straightened out and lifted an inch above ground, her head lolling to the side. Dean seized her by the waist and placed her head gently on his shoulder.

"I'll take her to her dorm now. It's in the east wing of the fifth floor, isn't it?"

"That's what she told us," said Ron, looking worried as Dean carried Hermione out of the pub. "Make sure she's in her bed before you leave her!"


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

High Stakes

Draco moved his Queen directly in front of Blaise's King and called out: "Check mate!" The Queen proceeded towards the King, picked up her throne, and slammed it on the King's head, smashing him to pieces.

"Bloody hell!" hollered Blaise. "You won again!"

Draco smirked.

"You never learn, do you? You can't beat me at anything, Blaise."

The brown skinned boy scowled and reached in his pocket. It was the third time he lost to Draco that night. He took out ten galleons and dropped them in Draco's outstretched palm.

"Here, have some more," offered the Head Boy after pocketing the money and filled up Blaise's empty glass to the brim with the Firewhiskey he purchased at Hogsmeade and snuck into the school that afternoon. They had been drinking and playing chess for the past four hours in the Heads dorm while the fire crackled merrily, warming the room and creating the perfect cozy atmosphere. Both had developed a substantial buzz by then; especially Blaise, who had drunk twice as much as his companion. He sipped a little more of the drink while Draco poured himself another helping. Just then, they heard a pounding knock at the dorm entrance. Holding on to his glass, the Head Boy walked over to the portal, curious as to who could visit him at that time of the night. As soon as he opened the door, Dean Thomas stumbled through the threshold hauling an unconscious looking Granger into the room. She was floating vertically, an indication that she was magically transported. Thomas's arms were around her waist while her head was resting on his chest. Draco felt a roaring dragon awaken in his chest at the sight of her cuddled up in the Gryffindor boy's embrace.

Slamming his drink down on the small table at the entrance, he darted over to them, abandoning his usual cool façade with the help of the generous amount of Firewhiskey he had consumed.

"What the bloody hell has happened?"

"She… had a wee bit to drink at the Three Broomsticks," hesitated Thomas, unsure of how much to reveal about her condition, taken aback by his severe reaction. "Where is her bedroom? She needs to lie down."

Draco threw him a vicious look. "A wee bit?"

Snatching Granger away from his grip, he carried her to the big sofa, muttered "Finite Incantatem" under his breath, and captured her descending body. As he laid her to rest on the sofa, the front of her robe fell open, revealing her shapely legs up to her thighs. From the corner of his eyes, Draco noticed Blaise ogling her flesh hungrily, creeping closer to her. In a flash, he pulled the hem of her robe down to her ankles, stepped in front of her and met Blaise's gaze, blocking her from his view. The atmosphere in the room suddenly turned from warm coziness to icy aggression. For a long moment the two boys faced off like two animals of prey; Draco glaring at Blaise like a lion daring a hyena to steal his latest kill. Both snapped out their wands and the tension between the Slytherins would have exploded into action, were it not for Thomas's interference.

"I think she might need a little water…" remarked the Gryffindor cautiously, surprised by the series of events that just unfolded before him. The tense silence in the room continued as Draco stood with his wand before him, maintaining his menacing stance. After appraising him for another moment, Blaise finally broke his eye contact and recoiled, settling on the chair near the fire. Taking care to not turn his back on his rival, the Head Boy waved his wand in a circular motion and conjured a tall glass of water on the coffee table. He took Granger's head in one hand and muttered an incantation. She parted her eyes. "Malfoy?" she croaked, her throat dried out from the alcohol.

"Here, drink this," he whispered softly and placed the glass near her lips. She bent her head and drank almost all of the water. Before she popped her head back down, Draco pulled a pillow from the corner of the divan and placed it under her neck. When he let go of her, he turned to glower at the Slytherin, holding fast to his wand, ready for a potential attack.

"How come you guys are here?" inquired Thomas in an attempt to dispel the tension in the room. "I thought you'd be out drinking tonight."

"Not that it's any of your business what I do in my own dorm, Thomas," replied Draco, his eyes still fixed on Blaise, "but Hogs Head was too full of riff raff. So we came back here for a bit of chess and drinks."

Thomas started towards the sofa.

"Well, I'd better get Hermione to bed. I promised Harry and Ron that she'd get back safe and sound."

"I don't think so!" growled Draco and hurled himself in front of him.

"What is wrong with you, man?" asked Thomas, determined to stay on his course. "How much have you had to drink tonight anyway? Hermione is _my_ friend and she's _my_ responsibility. I'm taking her to her bed and —"

"I'm the _Head Boy_ and she's _my_ responsibility. So you shove off and _I'll_ take her to bed."

Draco pointed his wand at Thomas, who raised his hands in the air in a defensive gesture.

"Hey take it easy man," he said placatingly, "I'm not looking for a fight. I just wanna make sure that Hermione is safe."

Realizing that the Gryffindor was not challenging him, the Slytherin lowered his wand.

"I can take it from here," he said, trying to suppress the anger in his voice, "You go on back to your dorm. She'll be safe."

Thomas frowned. "I can't do that. I've gotta make sure she's in bed before I leave."

Draco drew himself up to his full height, his chin set, his expression resolute. "You've got no choice, Thomas. Either you get out of here or they'll carry you out." He raised his wand again.

The Gryffindor stared at him seemingly unmoved, however, kept his eyes on the wand raised against him.

"I don't trust you with her, Malfoy," he asserted, "I'm taking her to her room. Which one is it?"

But Draco did not budge.

"She's _my_ responsibility and _I'll_ take care of her."

"She's _my_ friend and _I'll_ take care of her."

"I'mthe _Head Boy_ and _I_ decide who takes care of the _Head Girl_."

"How about I tell McGonagall and she can decide who takes care of her."

Draco narrowed his eyes.

"And what are going to tell her? That Granger accidentally fell into a vat of Firewhiskey? You're no snitch, Thomas."

The Gryffindor glanced at Blaise, who was now watching their exchange with surprise and zeal. Draco sensed that his concern for Granger's safety wasn't caused merely by his presence. Just as he did, Thomas also must have observed the lewd look on Blaise's face when she was first brought in.

"She will be safe from any harm," Draco insisted, his head nodding in Blaise's direction, in an effort to prove that he sincerely shared the Gryffindor's concern.

Thomas surveyed him skeptically.

"She will be safe from harm," Draco repeated in a grave tone.

The Gryffindor threw his hands in the air as a gesture of resignation and blew out a sigh. "Why don't we both go in and make sure she's safe then?"

Draco shook his head. "No. Go back to your tower, Thomas."

The two wizards stood facing each other, neither willing to relinquish their purpose. After a long pause of evident contemplation, Thomas nodded his head.

"Alright," he yielded. He walked to the exit and paused before the portal, pointing a finger at him. "But I'll be checking up on her in the morning."

As he walked out, Hermione stirred.

"What happened?" she asked, her slurry speech confirming the continuance of her intoxication. Draco walked over to the sofa and knelt down next to her, his eyes on her level.

"Apparently you had way too much to drink, Granger," he replied, impatient to get her away from Blaise, and offered her a helping hand. "It's time for you to go to bed."

Suddenly, with a look of recollection, the Head Girl's eyes flew wide open. She slapped his hand away.

"I don't need your help, Malfoy! All of this happened because you always have to act like a total git! You're always sticking your nose in my business and now you're bugging me about who do and don't date!"

"Granger, you're drunk. You need to get to bed. Come on!"

Draco grabbed her arm to help her up.

"Let go of me!" Granger shrieked, shaking his hand off. "You don't _ever_ get to touch me again — you — you — s-spoiled evil brat!"

Rising up in a flash, she whipped out her wand and pointed it at his face.

"Now, Granger, watch your language," warned her Draco, startled by her angry outburst.

He stood up and stole a glimpse at Blaise, who was staring at them with a wicked spark in his dark eyes. The Head Boy was not sure how to handle the situation for it seemed to be spinning out of his control. On the one hand, he truly understood why Granger was so upset with him and he couldn't fault her for it. He practically tortured and insulted her and her friends for the past seven years. And now that she was drunk, she poured forth all of her frustration from not only the incident that morning but also the seven years of build up. On the other hand, however, he could not afford to be bullied by her so openly in front of any one, especially a Slytherin like Blaise. Had they been alone, Draco would have listened to her ranting until she wore herself out. But Blaise was watching the interaction between them like a hawk and, no doubt, wondering what Granger was talking about. At that moment, Draco realized that he had been a bit careless. He showed genuine concern over Granger's well being and then almost fought with Blaise to protect her virtue. If he stood there like a coward and let her hex him on top of everything else, his reputation as the Prince of Slytherin would crumble before the whole school. He would be the laughing stock of his house as a muggle-lover!

Draco had two choices before him and neither was an option he wanted to take: He could keep quiet and let Granger attack him or he could do what he must and stand up to her. The problem with the second scenario was that, although she was drunk, Granger was a powerful witch. Even if his heart was in it, Draco would have a tough time dueling her without some nasty hexing. But now that he didn't want to hurt or offend her, he wasn't even sure which spells to use to ascertain that neither of them was harmed. Furthermore, if he dueled with her in her drunken state, he was sure that he would lose his chances with her forever. What was he going to do?

Suddenly, as if a sub-conscious answer to his predicament, the images of his fight with Granger and the bruises on her arms swam to the surface of his mind. About a month ago he made a promise to Granger that he would never hurt her again. And Draco intended to keep that promise. He decided to let her hex him if she so chose to, whatever the consequences.

He held his breath and braced himself for the attack. But Granger, to his astonishment, wobbled on the spot and sat back down, lowering her wand. Draco let out an internal sigh of relief.

"You miserable, wanna be Potion Maker!" the drunk witch slurred, changing the subject to his further relief. "You think you can beat me at Potions? Ha! In-your-dreams!"

"Granger, I already beat you in Potions, remember?" Draco pointed out, trying to sound credibly disdainful. "I finished that potion quicker than you did."

"Is she talking about Omnis Auxilium?" Blaise cut in, "Blimey Draco, I didn't know you've already made it. Well done, mate."

Granger scoffed. "He may claim to have made it but I'll bet you anything that it's nothing but dung! I've already got the perfect batch bottled up in my room as we speak!"

"Oh really now?" countered Blaise, leaning forward in his chair, an evil gleam twinkling in his eyes. "Are you willing to bet _anything_, Granger?"

"I will bet anything that I'll be the one winning the award for that potion," Granger answered.

Draco instantly guessed where Blaise was going with the conversation but he was helpless. There was nothing to it but to watch and hope that the Gryffindor girl would pass out before something awful happened.

"Since you're so sure about your potion, Granger," Blaise offered, rising from his chair, "how about I take you up on your claim? I bet that Draco will be the one winning that award. And if he does and you don't, you will be his servant until Christmas break. If he loses and you win, he will be your servant until Christmas break. If it's a draw, nothing happens. Deal?"

"Deal!" replied Granger, without a moment's hesitation.

Draco groaned inaudibly.

"Is it a deal for you?" Blaise asked, turning on him this time.

The Head Boy didn't like the idea of betting on the potion because deep down inside he knew that Granger had most probably brewed it as successfully as he did. However, after his performance in front of Blaise that night, he could not decline such an offer. If he refused, it would mean that he either admitted to the possibility of being defeated by Granger or that he cared too much about her to accept such high stakes.

Draco looked back at Blaise, who was scanning his face carefully, as if he knew the scope of the dilemma this wager would bring him. _Bastard_! He should have known that Blaise had already discovered his soft spot for Granger and that he would want payback for going against him earlier. He was a Slytherin after all and a Slytherin never missed an opportunity to avenge himself. Draco had no desire to be Granger's slave nor did he want her to be his. All he could hope for now was that the Gryffindor made the Omnis Auxilium properly and that they would draw.

Draco nodded. "It's a deal."

"Good!" rejoiced Blaise, "And now we can seal this deal properly."

He pulled out his wand and stood between Granger and Draco.

"Shake hands on it."

Draco offered his hand to help the Gryffindor girl up on her feet. He dreaded letting her do something as stupid as this while she was drunk, however, he seemed to have no choice.

Granger gripped his hand and stared at him with determination. "Seal it, Zabini!" she ordered. The Slytherin boy obeyed. He touched his wand on their joined hands.

"Do you, Draco, agree to serve Granger as her unconditional servant until Christmas break if you lose the Potions award to her on Monday?"

"Yes," Draco replied and a thin string of bright red flame shot from Blaise's wand and wound itself around their hands.

"Do you, Granger, agree to serve Draco as his unconditional servant until Christmas break if you lose the Potions award on Monday?"

"Yes," she replied and the red flame coiled around their hands once more and disappeared.

"Now the agreement is protected by the Unbreakable Vow," declared Blaise, stepping back. "I guess we'll find out the result on Monday morning."

He looked at his watch and then at Draco. "Well, it's getting late so I guess I'd better get going. I'll see you later."

With a nasty grin on his face, the Slytherin turned towards the portal and, within seconds, walked out of the room.

Draco immediately rounded on Granger, who appeared to have collapsed on the sofa again.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? Have you lost your bloody mind?"

"I'm in perfect control of my mind, thank you very much!" she snapped back, her speech still slurred.

"Do you even realize what you just forced me to do? You had a Slytherin bind you with a magical contract. We have to follow through with the consequences now."

"I don't care!" Granger snapped again, visibly struggling to keep her head vertical. "I know that I will win and you, mister, will be licking my boots for the rest of the semester!"

Draco knelt down beside her to reproach her further. But all his anger melted away as he got close to her. Though he could detect a faint odor of alcohol on her, she still emanated an enticing scent and her beauty was perfectly intact. Draco couldn't believe that someone so drunk could look and smell so good at that time of night. He swallowed a harsh reply and set out to explain in a gentler tone instead.

"For your information, Granger, I don't mind losing the competition to you or licking your… anything. But you had a Slytherin bind us. That means that if I win, they're going be expecting results from me. I will be forced to publicly enslave you. Don't you get it? This is very bad news —"

"Oh shut up, Malfoy!"Granger interrupted Draco and rose from her seat abruptly, causing Draco to fall backwards on his buttocks.

"Ouch! Watch it! What do you think you doing?"

Ignoring his inquiry, Granger tottered towards the table where the Firewhiskey stood, uncapped the bottle, and began guzzling the strong liquid.

Draco fumbled to get up and made a dash across the room to intervene. Grabbing the bottle, he yanked it away from Granger's mouth, spilling part of the drink on her chin and the front of her robe.

"Oh-no-you-don't!"

"Heeey!" she squeaked, "What did you do that for? I want a drink!"

She reached out to take the bottle back from him. Draco, recapping the bottle, raised his arm over his head and held it high enough so that she could not get a hold of it.

"No! You've already had way too much. You're not going to poison yourself, not on my watch!"

But Granger wasn't listening. She whipped out her wand and waved it.

"Accio Firewhiskey!"

The bottle flew out of Draco's hand and landed in hers. As she tried to unscrew the cap, Draco leapt behind her and seized her wrists. He folded his arms across her waist firmly, attempting to restrain her from bringing the bottle to her lips and, most importantly, using her wand.

"Heeey lemme go!" she squealed while struggling to free herself and dropped the bottle, which fell on the floor and smashed to pieces, the liquid inside it spilling everywhere.

"Oh no!" Granger cried in a child-like voice, stomping her foot. "See what you've done now?"

Gripping her gently by the arms, Draco turned her to face him. "You need to go to bed Granger. Come on!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

He began dragging her towards her bedroom.

"Oh no!" Granger squealed again, pulling away from him. "I don't wanna go to bed. I want to sip more of that delicious juice!"

She yanked her arms out of his weak grip and blew a raspberry at him. Draco, half amused and half exasperated waved his wand.

"Expelliarmus!"

The Head Girl's wand flew out of her hand into his.

He reached out to grab her again. "Come on, Granger!"

But Granger was now pursing her lips and hiding her arms behind her so he couldn't get a hold of them. "No! I don't wanna go to bed."

Draco paused and glared at her, his knuckles resting on his hips. He could swear that he was dealing with a five year old.

"I wanna go back to the pub," Granger protested, staggering towards the portal, "Why did they bring me here? I don't wanna see you for the rest of my life!"

Draco leapt in front of her again. Despite her angry outbursts, she appeared to be close to keeling over.

"You can't go back to the pub, Granger. You're too drunk!"

"Fine then! I'll go somewhere else. I'd rather be anywhere else but here with you!"

Draco embraced her gingerly, as if handling a most delicate crystal, trying to steady her.

"You can leave tomorrow if you wish," he urged patiently, "but please... tonight... tonight you need to stay here."

She shook him off once more.

"No! You've always been awful to me and all of my friends! You've put me down and called me names and Merlin knows what else. And now you had to pry into my life and embarrass me in the middle of the street about not having a boyfriend... It's not my fault that boys don't notice me. I don't know what to do to fit in. I don't know what to change so I can be like other girls. You — YOU ALWAYS MAKE ME FEEL BAD ABOUT MYSELF AND I HATE YOU FOR IT! WHAT HAVE I EVER DONE TO DESERVE ANY OF IT FROM YOU? YOU... you..."

Granger's voice faded away. Tears began to roll down her cheeks. She hid her face beneath her hands and swayed as if she was going to faint. She almost hit the floor when Draco caught her. He heaved her up and carried her over to the sofa in his arms, caressing her head before he let it slump onto the pillow to ensure her comfort.

The Slytherin felt completely out of his element. He had no idea how to deal with the circuitous situation he found himself in. He almost wished that he had allowed her to leave, unable to cope with the guilt that engulfed him or to endure the tears that now flowed freely from her eyes, the tears begotten by all the pain he had inflicted upon her for the past seven years. What was he thinking when he thought that he could win her over? This girl, who just had a complete break down before him, could never forgive him for all the cruel things he had done to her. All hopes of reconciliation were now beyond his reach. The only thing he could do at this point was to make sure that she was safely in bed.

Draco waved his wand and conjured a handkerchief out of thin air.

"Here take this," he said tenderly, placing it in her hand.

Granger wiped her red eyes and looked at him with a sad expression that stabbed his heart like a serrated knife. The Slytherin flinched, turning his gaze elsewhere in the room. He just couldn't bear watching her suffer before him. He had to get away from her; away from himself.

"You need to go to bed now, alright?"

Granger resumed gazing at him silently, considering him from beneath her swollen eye lids. After a long moment, she bent her head a little as a reply.

Draco waved his wand once more and opened her bedroom door.

"Come on. I'll carry you," he beckoned her, wrapping his arms around her waist, bracing himself for more hysterical objections. To his surprise, however, he met with no resistance. Instead, Granger surrendered to his embrace, enveloping her arms around his neck, nestling her head against his shoulder. He pulled her up and carried her to her room, lighting his wand to find his way as he walked in. After removing her shoes and tucking her legs under the comforter, he pulled the covers over the rest of her body and placed her wand on top of the nightstand next to her bed. The young wizard waved his wand for the last time, "_Nox_!", and the lights went out, sinking the bed chamber into partial darkness where the dim glow radiating from the fireplace of the common room was the only source of illumination. Draco stared at the indistinct figure that swelled underneath the bedspread. He heard a slow pattern of breathing and wondered whether the Gryffindor girl had already passed out. After a long moment of auditory inspection where he assured himself that she was asleep, he turned to leave but was impeded in mid-stride. Something had caught him. He looked back.

Granger had reached out a slender hand and was holding onto his. As his eyes adjusted to the obscurity of the room, he could barely distinguish her looking at him, her eyes shining with tears. He didn't exactly know why, but he instinctively knew what she needed. As much as she detested him, this vulnerable girl lying before him didn't want him to leave for the same reason she drank that night: She felt utterly lonely. This was a symptom Draco could recognize in others, as he felt the same way almost his entire life. He caressed her hand and, holding on to it, slid down to the floor beside the bed. Leaning against her nightstand, he listened to her breathing deepen as she drifted to sleep. Slowly, he, too, embraced a deep slumber. And, for the first time in his life, Draco Malfoy spent the night holding hands with someone.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

The Day After

A throbbing headache forced Hermione to open her eyes to darkness. The curtains in the bed chamber were drawn and the hands of the clock on her nightstand indicated that it was eleven thirty. Was this morning or night? Confused and drowsy, the Gryffindor girl swung her feet off the bed and rose into a sitting position, trying to gather her bearings and regain mastery of her stultified senses. The instant her head became vertical, she regretted doing so. A thumping sound rushed in, plugging her ears to match the pain that pounded her brain. The world spun around her as a vicious nausea attacked her empty stomach. It seemed as if her energy had been sucked out of every one of her limbs. Drawing on whatever strength was left in her body, she stood up and made for the shower. When she was done receiving the much welcomed relief from the warm, trickling water, she dried herself with a wave of her wand and walked back into her room. As she pulled the curtains open and the light of the day hit her squinting eyes, Hermione groaned. Even though it was rainy outside, the brightness dug into her retina like needles, increasing her already splitting headache. She was grabbing a fresh set of lounging robes out of her closet when she spotted a small bottle of purple liquid on her nightstand that she hadn't noticed before. Her curiosity suddenly aroused, she picked up the bottle and read the small label taped to the middle of it.

_MADAME ZELDA'S HANGOVER POTION_

_~ Guaranteed to chase those Next Morning Blues away! ~_

Hermione instantly knew who the potion came from at once: Malfoy. Grunting, she dropped her face in her hands as she recalled the events of the night before in sheer mortification. She made a fool of herself in front of her friends, Zabini, and Malfoy! She acted like an idiot by drinking so much Firewhiskey. If only she had listened to Harry... He had tried to tell her that it would get her in trouble but her stubborn streak and her chaotic emotional state wouldn't allow her to hear reason. And now she was paying for it.

The Head Girl uncorked the small bottle and downed the liquid. At once, the headache and nausea assaulting her senses were dissipated and were replaced by a cool, reviving sensation that traveled to all her extremities. Even the relentless daze she had been in since she woke up seemed to have lessened. As she felt her energy return, she began to realize how hungry she was as her last meal was about twenty hours ago. After putting on a pale pink lounging robe, she made for the common room in the hopes of finding Malfoy there. It was going to be awkward seeing him again; however, it had to be done. Even though she dreaded his reaction, she needed to know the details of what went on the night before. Hermione shuddered as she recalled a bet about potions. What was that all about anyway? She couldn't recollect clearly but she was determined to find out what kind of trouble she got herself into. Treading softly, she stepped out to the common room. Malfoy was sitting at the table with food in front of him while Dippy a cup with tea and placed it in front of him. As she noticed Hermione, the little elf's lavender eyes widened.

"Good afternoon, Miss!" she squeaked excitedly, "Master and Dippy have been waiting for you to come out for the past two hours. He has not eaten a thing himself; said he would rather wait for you to wake up. Master also said you might have trouble with your stomach today so Dippy cooked a light breakfast for you, Miss."

The elf pulled out the chair across from Malfoy and waved a bony hand, motioning her to sit down. Hermione slumped onto the seat, stunned by the information she had just received. Was this a side effect of Firewhiskey? If it was, then Madame Zelda's Hangover Potion didn't alleviate _this_ particular symptom. Draco Malfoy had waited for her to get up _and_ made sure that she ate well? Did she miss something from the night before? Had a piano fallen on Malfoy's head like in one of those Muggle cartoons to bring about such a change? When she poked her head out of her room, Hermione had been prepared for a string of insults or taunts. She definitely, however, was not prepared for… _Oh Merlin_! Could it possibly be… kindness? _No way_! This must have been some kind of joke or a set up or a fluke. This could _not_ be real. She searched for an answer on the Slytherin boy's face but he simply looked back at her with a blank expression.

"Errrm… Thank you, Dippy," Hermione hesitated as the elf placed a cup in front of her and poured some tea in it that smelled like an unfamiliar mixture of herbs. She sipped the hot liquid and felt the queasiness in her stomach ease; it was like drinking medicine.

"What is this stuff, Dippy? It tastes very good and it's a miracle cure for my upset stomach."

"Dippy doesn't know, Miss," the elf replied as she lifted a tray of empty plates off the table, "Master Malfoy made that tea for you. He said it is an ancient family recipe. If Miss and Master don't need anything else, Dippy will leave with your permission."

Hermione's jaw dropped. She involuntarily gawked at Malfoy, who, after dismissing the elf, resumed staring at her with the same blank expression.

"Errrm… Thank you," the Head Girl managed to utter throatily, feeling increasingly awkward under his unyielding stare and his inscrutable face. She could have sworn that he was practicing silent Legimency on her. Is this how he always managed to know what she was thinking and feeling?

"So… About last night… What happened exactly?" she inquired, her face warming up.

"How much of it do you remember?"

Hermione shifted in her seat nervously, trapped by his penetrating gaze. She was becoming curious about the source of his… his… What was this…? Where was his characteristic smirk and why was he not sneering? She was sure that she had given him a lifetime of material to use against her the night before…

"Not too much. I remember waking up on the couch and something about a bet between us?"

"Evidently, you passed out from drinking too much at the Three Broomsticks," Malfoy began indifferently, "So Dean Thomas brought you here. I woke you up and gave you some water. Then you seemed to perk up a tad but, unfortunately, you were still intoxicated enough to entangle yourself with the Slytherins."

"How did I do that?" asked Hermione sheepishly, sensing an approaching doom.

"Well," explained Malfoy, his tone of voice as placid as his facial features, "You've raised much ado about my potion making abilities, dropped a serious challenge in front of Zabini about being the 'master brewer' of Omnis Auxilium, and allowed him to bind us with the Unbreakable Vow."

"What were the terms of the wager_?_" Hermione demanded, trying to keep her voice steady.

"You agreed to be my slave until Christmas break if you lose the Potions award to me tomorrow morning."

Hermione rattled in her chair, almost falling out of it with panic, cupping her forehead and frantically shaking her messy locks.

"I DID WHAT? Oh no! Oh no! What have I done?"

Malfoy reaction was in keeping with his characteristic iciness.

"You mean besides yelling at me and calling me names in front of my friend? You've just made sure that we got ourselves into a bet that we can't back out of. If you'd done all of this, say in front of a Gryffindor, we could've found a way out of it. But you see, you've done it in front of a Slytherin and that's a much stronger binding contract for me than the damned Unbreakable Vow."

"Wh-what do you mean?"

Malfoy's face fell into a frown.

"It means that if it were a Gryffindor, we could've just kept this whole incident a secret between us. But now Zabini will make sure to tell everyone about what happened. Every single Slytherin in this school is going to be after me to go through with the conditions of the vow. If I win, they'll make sure that I treat you as my personal slave publicly!"

Hermione couldn't help but wonder at the displeased look on his countenance. Why did Malfoy sound as if he didn't like these odds? And why was he not worried about himself? She did brew the potion after all and informed him that she had done so. Was the lack of concern for himself due to his faith in his own potion making abilities?

"And is this an undesirable situation for you?" she inquired incredulously.

"What do you mean?"

"I thought you'd be elated at the thought of torturing me in front of the whole school."

"Well — um — I am a _Head Boy_ now," Malfoy stammered unconvincingly, taking a sudden interest in his plate, which was, Hermione noticed, still full of untouched food. "That would be highly inappropriate… a bad example for the younger students. We are role models after all and a Head Boy enslaving a Head Girl would hardly be exemplary behavior."

Hermione arched an eye brow.

"But you've never been the type to care about those things, Malfoy. Remember our fifth year when you were a Prefect —"

"Too many things have changed since then, Granger," the Slytherin cut in with a peevish accent, "And that includes you. So stick to the present subject, will you?"

Hermione surveyed him for a moment. Malfoy was a lot of things but, a model student, he was not. He had to have some other motives for this sudden change in attitude towards her. He'd given her a hangover potion, waited for her to come out for breakfast, brewed her a special tea, and was now turned off by the idea of enslaving her. If she didn't know any better, Hermione would have said that Malfoy actually… _Good Merlin_! Could he actually _care_ about her? It was either that or he was planning something supremely evil and this was just the ground work for it. The Head Girl could not be sure. The only thing she was sure of was the fact that a part of her wanted it to be the former and that disturbed her far more than the possibility of being subjected to his foul schemes.

"So you mean to tell me," she persisted, "that you, the Prince of Slytherin, would pass up an opportunity to enslave a 'mudblood' Gryffindor only for the sake of being an exemplary role model or are there other forces at work here?"

Malfoy shrugged, still maintaining a keen interest in his plate.

"Like I said, things change…"

"But not you, Malfoy —"

"Need I remind you Granger that you were just brought in here last night, in the arms of a boy from your house, drunk and passed out?"

"What's that got to do with anyth —"

"So you see? Things _do_ change Miss I-Am-The-Model-Student! So let's focus on the problem at hand here, alright?"

Hermione, not being able to find a hole in his logic, instead of answering, changed her course of inquest.

"So how come you're not worried about yourself? Haven't you taken a vow to do the same if I win?"

"Yes… But…" he stammered unconvincingly again, "I don't think you'd do that… You know… Being a responsible Head Girl and all... Anyway, so are you sure you have the potion right? We have to make sure that we at least tie tomorrow."

"I'm pretty sure I brewed it correctly. It turned a deep green color with golden swirls in it and it smells like peppermint."

"Good, so did mine," confirmed Malfoy, obviously relieved. "That's what it's supposed to be when made correctly. Then we should tie tomorrow and everything will be just fine."

For a moment, both of them sat without speaking.

"So… that was all that happened last night?" probed Hermione, obliging a premonition nudging her to do so. "You've got nothing else to tell me?"

"Thank Merlin that's all the damage you've done!" the Slytherin came back with a grimace, his gaze still averted, and his food still untouched.

Hermione eyed him skeptically.

"Are you absolutely sure you have nothing else to tell me?"

Malfoy shot to his feet.

"Nothing else happened, Granger."

"W-Where are you going? Aren't you going to eat?"

Hermione flinched and almost slapped herself after the words spilled out of her mouth. She was shocked at her own reaction. Why did she care whether he was going to eat?

The Slytherin paused, appeared to be as taken aback as she was.

"I'm going to the library to study a little bit," he explained, his tone of voice markedly softer now. "You'll probably have your friends over here soon. That Thomas boy said he'd come by to check on you."

"Oh. Right," murmured Hermione, feeling foolish for her conduct and sipped some more of the medicinal tea. Perhaps the hangover was to blame for her sudden bathos over Malfoy's whereabouts.

"Eat," the Head Boy suggested, nodding towards her plate, and grabbing his book bag from the floor beside him. "You'll feel a lot better once there's some food in your stomach."

He spun around and made for the portal. As he was about to go through the doorway Hermione did something she had been meaning to do since she first saw him that day. She rose from her seat.

"Malfoy!"

The Head Boy stopped. He turned his head and met her eyes.

A timid but genuine smile graced Hermione's features.

"Thank you... for everything," she said and meant it.

Malfoy froze in his spot, seemingly too perplexed to respond to her gesture. The two of them stared at each other, his grey eyes piercing into her brown orbs. Hermione felt a powerful tug in her stomach that had nothing to do with hunger. It was as if time had stopped and they had been transported into a motionless reality. A rush of heat traveled down her spine, ensnaring her lower abdomen. Her knees almost gave way, weakening under his intense gaze. She felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment at the sensations that were now awakening in every part of her body. After what felt like eternity, Malfoy parted his mouth as if to say something when a knock on the door stole the words from his lips. He opened the door to let in Ginny, who strolled in with a cheerful manner. However, the instant she saw the two of them, her smile vanished as she seemed to realize that she had just interrupted private moment. The red-headed girl looked at her friend and the Slytherin boy back and forth, evidently trying to decipher what had just passed between them. As neither of them spoke, she addressed her friend.

"How are you feeling today?"

The Slytherin glanced at Hermione once more and walked out the door.

"Hi Ginny. I'm fine," Hermione replied, avoiding her friend's suspicious gaze, and sat back down. "Come on in."

Ginny took the seat across her.

"Got a hangover today?"

"I had it but…"

Hermione's voice trailed off. She tried to cool herself down and hide her alarming emotions but instead she choked on them. The intensity of the last few minutes had made her feel hot and dizzy.

"But what?" inquired Ginny.

"Oh… um… Malf — I took some hangover potion and it really helped."

"I see," Ginny nodded with an apparent acceptance. But the shrewd expression on her face proved an evidence of her disbelief. She pondered for a moment and then:

"So you want to come down and meet us at the pitch?" she offered. "We're training today. The Slytherin match is in a few weeks so we're putting in some extra hours."

Hermione grabbed a fork and began shuffling the food on her plate.

"I've got to eat something first and then catch up on some homework. But I can come down afterwards."

"Alright," Ginny confirmed with a smile. "If you can't find us on the pitch, head over to the common room. That's where we'll all likely be after the training. The new password is _Scholarly Blubbertweek_."

She got up and made towards the portal but then stopped, looking back, she added as if she had a last minute thought: "That would also give us a chance to catch up. You know… In case you want to share with me anything that might have happened last night?"

She blinked at her mischievously and walked out, her red, voluminous hair bouncing on her upper back.

Hermione sighed. "I guess I do have some news to tell…"

She dreaded telling her friends, especially Ron and Harry about the fact that she had just taken an Unbreakable Vow to be Malfoy's slave if she lost the Potions award. Deciding to worry about the unpleasantness of breaking the news to her friends after filling her growling stomach, she began eating the breakfast Dippy had prepared and found that the Slytherin boy was right. She felt much more energized after having the light but nutritious food in her stomach. Hermione silently thanked Malfoy for his wisdom and turned her attention on her homework next. After going over chapter fifteen of her Charms textbook for the eighth time, she realized that she was in no mood for that or any kind of activity that required her focus. Throwing her textbook aside, she went to her room to change her clothes and was about to head to the portal when she heard a knock on the door. As she swung the door open, she found Dean Thomas waiting at the entry way.

"Oh Hi Dean! How are you doing?" she greeted him, cringing as she remembered that it was he who brought her back the night before. This was going to be awkward.

"Alright!" Dean said, and walked in without an invitation, looking around the common room as he did, as if he was searching for a certain Slytherin's presence. "I just came by to see how you were feeling. You didn't look so good last night. I think you'd had too much Firewhiskey."

"Dean, I am so sorry about last night. I really do feel terrible about passing out in front of you. I hope I didn't cause too much trouble —"

Dean shrugged his shoulders.

"Nah, don't worry about it. You were just fine. You were pretty much asleep through it anyway. So what are you up to today?"

He beamed at her with an ill-concealed enthusiasm.

"Actually I'm going to the Quidditch pitch right now to watch the Gryffindor practice."

"Oh… What are you doing after practice?" he asked, disappointment seeping into his tone.

Hermione hesitated.

"I'm…going to the common room to hang out with them afterwards."

The Gryffindor boy frowned momentarily but, recovering swiftly, managed to force himself into a half-smile. Hermione could not decipher his intentions. Was he trying to ask her to hang out with him today?

"Okay. I guess I'll see you later… over there then?"

"I guess you will. See you then."

Dean walked backwards toward the exit with a shy smile on his face, his shoulders stooped, his hands in his pockets, only turning his back when his heels hit the threshold.

_Well_, thought Hermione when she was alone again, _this is an interesting turn of events! _She had gotten prettied up and drunk just for one night and already it seemed that boys were lining up to be extra nice to her. She shook her head in frustration as perplexing questions flooded her mind.

Where were these boys when she felt down and lonely? Why was she not noticed when she went about her day to day activities? Did she have to put on makeup and consume copious amount of Firewhiskey to draw attention or be popular? Hermione yearned to be appreciated for her character and not for what she looked like or what she drank. And yet, the attention she was getting from these boys the day after she acted out of character could not have been just a huge coincidence. Did intoxication add something to her charms or made her cooler somehow? How could a boy possibly find a drunken girl attractive? She assumed that Dean, a boy who apparently had not given her a second thought these past seven years, would have been turned off by her the next day and yet he just practically asked her out. Hermione scoffed. _Men_! She would never understand the opposite sex as long as she lived. She walked through the portal and out of the dorm to join her friends at the Quidditch pitch.

When she reached the bleachers, she saw that the Gryffindors had already finished their practice and the Slytherins were flying high above instead. The Head Girl scanned the soon-to-be dark sky to catch a glimpse of the Seeker and spotted him without difficulty, since he was hovering in the air above the goal post near her, apparently trying to locate the snitch. All of a sudden, as if he sensed that someone was staring at him, Malfoy snapped his head towards the bleachers and looked straight at her. Hermione felt her stomach drop. What if Malfoy thought that she had come down there just to watch him? Feeling self-conscious about having been caught gaping, the Head Girl quickly spun around and headed to the castle. When she arrived at the Gryffindor tower, she gave the password to the Fat Lady, "_Scholarly Blubbertweek_!", and went into the common room to find Ginny, Harry, Ron, and Lavender sitting and chatting by the fireplace.

"So you're still alive!" Harry laughed as soon as he spotted her. "I told you not to drink that stuff."

"Yeah Hermione!" chuckled Lavender, "You were seriously messed up last night. You pretty much passed out after the second drink."

"Yeah… um… Sorry about that Harry," Hermione put in coyly, "I don't know what got into me last night."

"Beats me," remarked the raven-haired boy. "You're always so poised and collected. I was shocked to see you do anything that wild."

"Have you got any headaches today?" asked Ron, also sporting a mocking grin.

"No, I'm okay actually. Took some hangover potion."

"Oh really?" inquired Ron, "Blimey Hermione! I didn't know you kept one of those about you. They are handy. Where did you get one?"

Hermione was caught off guard with his question. She futilely fumbled through her mind for an answer.

"Um… Errrm… I got that at… um…"

"We got that from the Apothecary," interrupted Ginny, "when we were shopping at Diagon Alley before the start of term. Remember when you guys went off together to buy your things? We figured one of us would need it on the first Hogsmeade weekend. Turns out we were right."

She blinked at Hermione covertly. The Head Girl thanked her with a grateful glance. Though she was relieved to be off the hook that time, she knew that Ginny would be interrogating her privately at the earliest opportunity. She made a mental note to get ready to answer some difficult questions.

"So how was the practice?" Hermione asked in an attempt to change the subject.

Harry was the first to answer.

"It was great! The House Cup is definitely gonna be ours this year."

"Mate, we're gonna wipe the floor with the Slytherins this year, especially with you being our Captain and all," added Ron, his voice laced with bitterness over the teasing and the ridicule he suffered at the hands of the Slytherins in his fifth year.

"Great! So when is the match set for?" Hermione asked.

"This coming Saturday," Lavender replied.

"Oh my! That's pretty close! So, Ginny, did you switch from a Chaser to a Beater this year?"

"Yeah, I got tired of chasing," replied Ginny. "Besides, somebody had to fill in after Fred and George left."

"So who's the other beater and chaser now?" asked Hermione.

"A bloke called Bill McUlley," Ginny replied. "He's the new beater and Cecil Martone is the chaser. They're both fourth years but they're pretty decent."

"Excellent!" Hermione chirped, glad to be steering the conversation away from everything that made her uneasy. But her happiness would not last long for, just then, Dean popped out of nowhere and plopped on the couch right beside her.

"Hey," he greeted, beaming at Hermione. The Head Girl threw a furtive look at Ginny, who grinned back slyly.

"So Dean… Are you on the team this year?" Hermione asked, trying to make conversation to ease her discomfort.

"No, I decided to drop out this year. Getting ready for N.E. are tough enough without the extra time I have to put into Quidditch."

"Oh…"

Hermione nodded as her discomfort lingered in the silent gap. She tried to think of another question and came up blank. Luckily, Ginny came to her rescue, for the second time that day.

"Dean thanks for taking Hermione back last night," she said, still grinning slyly. "That was very decent of you."

Dean eyed Hermione.

"No problem. It was my pleasure."

"You're a prince among men, mate!" added Ron. "I wasn't looking forward to hauling her all the way to the castle."

"Excuse me!" teased Hermione, "What are you trying to imply… that I'm fat?"

"No," Ginny pointed out, "he's just implying that he has skinny arms."

"I don't have skinny arms!" Ron protested.

"Oh please! I just beat you at arm wrestling two days ago!"

Ron flushed.

"You didn't beat me! That was just an accident."

"Oh right! You accidentally slapped the back of your hand on the table while I was pushing down on it."

As the group burst into laughter, Ron's cheeks matched the color of his hair. Lavender, as if on cue, snuggled up against his arm.

"Don't worry Won Won," she purred in his ear, "I _love_ your arms!"

Just when Ron turned even more impossibly red, Lavender pulled him into a kiss, and the two began smooching noisily.

The night before, in her emotional turmoil, Hermione hadn't quite taken in the sloppiness of Ron's kissing technique. But now that she paid close attention in broad day light, Ron looked as if he was attempting to swallow Lavender's head and she could swear that there was a small amount of drool hanging in the corner of his mouth. The Head Girl tried to keep her face straight as she restrained a chortle and felt eternally thankful for not having become Ron's girlfriend when she had the chance.

"Those two have been at it non-stop since the day they took a walk," Harry whispered to Hermione.

"Oh like we haven't been at it for months now?" Ginny asked in a sultry tone and, as Hermione cringed, she pulled the raven-haired boy to her lips.

More of the "_SCHMUCK, SCHWOOP_" noises could be heard as the couples kissed heatedly, turning the atmosphere in the room completely uncomfortable for Hermione. She rolled her eyes at the four of them and shifted in her seat as she tried to look away from Dean who was staring at her sideways.

"Well guys," she said, and shot to her feet, for fear that Dean would get ideas from their example, "I gotta go back to the dorm. I've got homework I haven't finished yet. I'll see you later!"

She headed towards the door, as fast as she could, without waiting for a response.

Dean jumped out of his seat.

"Hang on, Hermione!" he called after her and followed suit. "I'll walk you to your dorm!"

Hermione was not sure how she felt about Dean's sudden interest in her. One minute, she seemed to be the only girl in seventh year that did not have a boyfriend and the next, she had Dean following her around, making googly eyes at her. It probably wasn't such a bad thing to receive attention from a boy as nice as Dean, however, Hermione could not yet find evidence that Dean was interested in her and not in a short-lived infatuation. She decided to go with the flow as long as he remained mute about his new found crush. She already had too much on her plate and didn't want to play games with any boy. With these thoughts filling her head, they walked down the stairs to the sixth floor and passed through the winding corridors in an awkward silence; both seemingly lost in their own thoughts. When they finally reached the stairs of the fifth floor, Dean broke the silence.

"So how is it like sharing your dorm with Malfoy?" he inquired, keeping his eyes on the ground.

"It's okay, I guess," replied Hermione, somewhat taken aback by the question.

"So he's treating you okay?"

"Yeah… I mean, he's been kinda… You know how Malfoy is. He's always acting so stuck up. But he's not altogether too awful."

"Oh?" Dean asked, surveying her face carefully. "I figured he'd keep giving you a hard time as he always did. Maybe even more than before, I assumed, now that Voldemort's gone and Death Eaters are kinda scattered all over the place. Not that many people in the school respect him anymore. I thought that he'd be taking his frustrations out on you."

"No, no… I mean he's pretty okay with me," replied Hermione, getting suspicious of Dean's line of questioning, and began pacing more rapidly as they reached the landing of the fifth floor and turned east towards the Heads dormitory. Where was Dean going with this?

"I couldn't make out his behavior last night."

Hermione stopped dead on her tracks.

"What do you mean _his behavior_ last night?"

Dean stopped walking as well.

"I mean that he was kind of… overly protective of you, I guess."

"Overly protective of me? What do you mean? What was he protecting me from?"

"Well, you see, Zabini was there last night and it was apparent that they were drinking."

"Yes?" demanded Hermione, a feeling of dread threatening to suffocate her. She already had a nagging feeling that Malfoy did not tell her the whole truth about everything that happened the night before and here was the proof. Did she do something indecent in her drunken state? _No_! It could not be! Was it possible that somebody did something indecent to _her_?

Dean seemed to struggle with his answer.

"Errrm… well… Zabini might have been a wee bit drunk so he tried to make a pass at you while you were unconscious on the couch but… Malfoy stepped in between you two."

"Zabini did wh —?" Hermione squealed in total shock. "Malfoy? Malfoy stepped in between me and Zabini?"

Dean bowed his head in agreement.

"_Stepped in_ isn't the right term. _Aggressively confronted_ is probably more like it. They almost came to blows, wands drawn out and everything."

Hermione could not believe her ears. Draco Malfoy defended _her_ against a Slytherin?

"What happened then?" she asked, her mouth agape.

"Then I tried to diffuse the situation and they seemed to settle down after that. Well… Actually, it was more like Malfoy calmed down after Zabini backed down. I'd expect anything from that Zabini boy but I was surprised to see Malfoy's reaction to the whole situation to say the least."

Hermione started pacing once more. Her mind was racing, trying to disentangle the puzzling information that she had just received. What did all of this mean?

"I know that it may not be my place but I have to ask…" went on Dean, unexpected resentment hoarsening his usually jovial voice, "Hermione, is there anything going on between you two?"

As the Head Girl whipped around with a scowl, he amended: "Not on _your_ part, Hermione, but on _his_ part. He was not himself last night. He was acting so different! I've never seen Malfoy do anything that… honorable. I thought that maybe he sort of fancies you or something."

"Don't be ridiculous, Dean!' snapped Hermione. "Where did you come up with that idea? He's different because… because first, he's grown older, and second, he's the Head Boy. So that gives him added responsibilities and expectations that I am sure he wants to live up to —"

"Hermione, he was not acting like a Head Boy last night! He was acting like a boyfr —"

Dean didn't get a chance to finish his sentence as they reached the portrait at the same time as Malfoy, who had been walking towards the dormitory from the other direction. As all three ended up in front of the portrait simultaneously, an intense stillness befell on the corridor. Hermione felt the tension in the air increase by tenfold. She felt her cheeks burn and her heart threaten to thump out of her chest as she saw Malfoy studying the two of them with a smoldering look in his eyes. He glared at her for a split second, then at Dean, and finally turned to the portrait.

"_Brassheaded Knucklepluck_!"

The door to the dorm swung open and Malfoy disappeared into the portal.

Hermione quickly turned to Dean who looked as if he intended to finish his sentence.

"Thank you for walking me all the way over here, Dean," she said, cutting him off with finality, and stepped through the portal. "I'll see you tomorrow."

The door closed with a loud clunk, leaving a frustrated looking Dean outside.

When she entered the common room, Hermione saw Malfoy standing before the fireplace. With a wave of his wand, he set the logs ablaze, instantly casting a dim light and warmth upon the room. As Hermione hurried to her room, he turned to face her.

"So where is your boyfriend?" he drawled, glaring at her through his steely orbs. "Haven't you invited him over?"

The Head Girl paused in front of her bedroom door.

"Dean is not my _boyfriend_, Malfoy," she replied wearily. "And I have not invited him over. He simply offered to walk with me."

Hermione turned the handle of her door, anxious to get away from Malfoy. Why did they always have to bicker every time they saw each other?

"Walk with you?" the Slytherin asked disdainfully, gazing straight into her eyes as if he was trying to read her mind. "Walk where? Isn't his dorm on the seventh floor? What's he doing walking on the fifth floor?"

"Not that it's any of your business, Malfoy," Hermione replied, meeting his gaze with mounting apprehension, "but Dean was kind enough to walk me to my dorm."

Hermione felt her head spin. Everything was moving so fast. She had just been bombarded with puzzling information about the night before and she was not ready to face Malfoy without analyzing and sorting out her feelings regarding the new circumstances. As she made to walk through her bedroom door, he interrupted her again.

"Why? You can't walk on your own? Is he your baby-sitter now?"

Hermione knew that Malfoy was looking for an argument and she was determined not to give him one. On an ordinary day, she wouldn't have minded a good row with the Slytherin, but at that point she was exhausted from the night before, confused about her feelings for him, and not to mention a little thirsty. All she wanted to do was go to bed and get some sleep.

"I don't have time to argue with you," she replied, trying to suppress her rising irritation.

"Oh yeah? But you seem to have plenty of time to gallivant around the castle with your precious Thomas!"

Hermione felt a surge of anger beating at her chest from the inside. As much as she resisted it, lately Malfoy seemed to be able to get under her skin with more ease than she would have liked. She turned on him despite herself.

"First of all Malfoy, I did not _gallivant_ around the castle with him. He simply offered to walk me back to my dorm. Second of all, what the bloody hell is wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me?" Malfoy rejoined angrily. "You're the one who keeps coming back to her dorm escorted by the same guy every night. First you came back here unconscious in his arms last night and now you come back here with him again. I bet if I wasn't here, you would have snuck him into your bedroom!"

"What?" the Head Girl screeched, marching towards Malfoy. "How dare you make accusations like that? Dean is my friend!"

"If he's your friend, then I'm dating Neville Longbottom!"

"As much as the concept may be alien to you, Malfoy, I am _not_ the type of girl who sneaks guys into her bedroom at night!"

"No!" the Slytherin spat back, taking a step closer to her. "You're the type of girl who gets trashed in a bar and has to be lugged home by a guy! And you're supposed to be the Head Girl?"

Hermione stepped in closer to him, her jaw tight, her fists clenched.

"My responsibilities as a Head Girl were not in the least compromised by my drinking this once in my life! Besides, I was just fine when I woke up!"

"Oh please! You were _fine_? If it weren't for me, you'd be dragging your behind like a slug all day!"

"If it weren't for you I wouldn't be drinking in the first place!" Hermione shrieked, her nose almost touching his.

Malfoy's face twisted into a mocking grin.

"Aaaw! What happened? The big, bad Malfoy break little Granger's itty bitty heart?"

"For your information, you did not break my heart! There's nothing you can say or do to touch my heart in any shape or form, Malfoy!"

"For your information, I wouldn't touch your heart with a ten foot pole, Granger!"

"Alright then!" Hermione snarled, standing so close to his face now she could feel his ragged breathing. "You've made your point already. So why don't you go back to the hell you came from and LEAVE ME ALONE?"

"FINE!"

"FINE!"

"OKAY!"

"GREAT!"

"WHATEVER!"

The Slytherin and the Gryffindor, despite wanting to run off and away from each other, stayed rooted to their spots. For what felt like ages to Hermione, they stood toe-to-toe, their eyes spewing out hatred, anger, and a deeply conflicting desire for each other. Their bodies pulled closer as if some sort of magnetic force was acting upon them. The ferocity of their fight have brought forth such intensity between them that Hermione nearly collapsed into his arms. Malfoy's gaze dropped from her eyes down to her mouth. He leaned forward and brought his lips so near to hers that they almost united. He halted right before the contact, however, as if waiting for her to reach up and kiss him. Hermione felt a jolt of heat shoot up from her head down to her spine and explode in her lower abdomen, overriding all her common sense. Her heart raced and her whole body trembled with excitement. She looked back into Malfoy's eyes and found them piercing hers. For a suspenseful moment neither of them breathed. Hermione fought a ridiculous impulse to kiss him and Malfoy seemed be fighting the same battle. The Slytherin fixed his gaze back on her lips and leaned forward to close the gap between them. But Hermione, in a flash decision, drew back. She spun around abruptly, and, for fear of changing her mind again, without looking back, she rushed to her bedroom and shut herself in.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

The Potions Award

After watching Granger disappear behind her door, Draco stomped to his quarters, slammed his door shut, and kicked his trunk so hard that it flew in the air and landed three feet away, crashing to the ground. Throwing himself on the bed, he let out a roar of aggravation. For a few minutes the Slytherin boy sat there fuming, not knowing what to do with himself. When his rage had sufficiently subsided, he ran his fingers through his unkempt hair in utter confusion and dropped his head in his palms.

He had never lost control that way before. But then again, he had never felt that way about a girl before either. He could not even define his feelings for Granger much less figure out why he blew up the way he just did. All he knew was that seeing Blaise and Thomas hit on her, back to back within the last twenty four hours, tickled the sleeping dragon in his chest. Deep down, Draco realized that he was being ridiculous, and perhaps even childish, however, he just could not help feeling the way he did. He'd never possessed such an overprotective inclination towards anyone but his family members and his house elf, Dippy.

Ever since they spent the night together in the Room of Requirement, the Slytherin boy had come to know Granger as an intelligent, brave, but secretly vulnerable girl. She had the most formidable mind he had ever seen but she also had an equally fragile heart. He shuddered when he imagined what could have happened had he not been there to protect her from Blaise the night before. Thomas was a Gryffindor but he was no match for Blaise, a fierce wizard who knew about the Dark Arts almost as much as Draco did. At first the Head Boy reasoned with himself that he was just trying save Granger from harm in her drunken, weakened state. But he lost his reasoning when he saw her with Thomas again, talking heatedly about something that was most likely private since they abruptly ceased talking the instant they saw him. This last incident snapped his final emotional restraint and, adding fuel to the fire, unleashed the fury he'd been trying to restrain. He wanted to curse Thomas to hell, take Granger by the waist, and kiss her wildly until they both stopped breathing. Yet all he ended up doing was making a jealous fool out of himself in front of Granger. His resentment towards Thomas, coupled with his dissatisfaction over his existence, led him to take all his frustrations out on her. And to think that for one fleeting moment he actually thought that he could kiss her after the way he behaved!

_Though she _did_ look like she almost kissed me as well_, prompted a small voice in his head, giving him a glimmer of hope. Was it possible that he had a chance to win her? _Even if you do, unless you keep your damn temper in check and stop acting like a fool, you'll end up losing her forever_! scolded the voice in his head this time. The young wizard heaved a sigh of resignation. He didn't know how to cope with this kind of adversity.

All his life, Draco had been used to having anything he desired handed to him on a silver platter by an indulging father and a doting mother. However, now that his father becoming abusive and his family was falling apart, he felt out of place and lost. Every one of his role models, including his father had terribly disappointed him. Everything that used to make him feel secure was pulled from underneath his feet. Draco wanted to take control over his life and feel whole again but he didn't know the way. His intense and unfamiliar feelings for the Gryffindor girl were exacerbating his situation. It was as if his world had turned upside down in a matter of few months as events crushed him like a run-away train and he was sick and tired of being constantly depressed. He realized that if he was going to conquer Granger, he had to be the man he used to be: Confident, cool, and strong.

_Confident, cool, and strong… _All the qualities of a true Slytherin; the qualities of a Malfoy as well. Draco's family had been placed by the sorting hat in the Slytherin house for many generations. Being powerful and secure was in his blood. All he had to do was to summon the strength that already ran through his veins.

And his blood called to Draco Malfoy: He raised his head from his palms and took a deep breath. He had no desire to stop or even lessen his care for Granger; however, he certainly had the desire to handle his dilemma the Slytherin way. No matter what happened, he was going to stand tall and deal with the situation being a confident, cool, and strong man.

He lied down on the bed and closed his eyes. The image of Granger getting closer and closer to his lips swam to the surface of his mind. But she didn't back away this time; instead she wrapped her arms around his shoulders as their lips collided. He held her tight as they frantically explored each other's tongues. Slowly, he descended his lips to her delicate neck. She moaned and pulled his hips so close to hers that he could feel every curve of her body pressing up against his. Slithering his hands around her waist, he tasted her cleavage. She whimpered and urged him to go lower…

Draco felt an overwhelming pulsation erupt between his legs. He opened his eyes and wiped the sweat off his forehead. Why was he torturing himself this way? He ran to the bathroom and took a long, cold shower.

* * *

When he woke up at quarter to nine the next morning, Draco hastily pulled on his uniform, grabbed his backpack, and rushed to the Potions classroom. Fifteen minutes later he arrived at the dungeons gasping for air. As he entered the dimly lit chamber he looked around for Snape. Though the Head of Slytherin house had never been late to a class in recorded history, by a miraculous coincidence he was not there yet. Grateful for his extremely good luck, the Head Boy sat down in his seat next to Blaise, gave him a cold nod, and pulled his Omnis Auxilium out of his backpack. He set the glass bottle marked with his name on the table and stole a quick look at the empty chair where Granger usually sat next to Potter. It was already two minutes past nine. The Gryffindor girl was not in the common room when he left and, like Snape, she was never late to class either. Where could she be? Potter seemed to be thinking along the same lines as well because he kept checking his watch and glancing at the door. It was obvious that the Gryffindor boy was as clueless about her whereabouts as he was. From the corner of his eye, Draco noticed Blaise staring at Granger's vacant seat with a smug expression. But before he could interpret the look on his face, the Potions Master entered the room, his black cloak billowing behind him as he glided in. He stood behind his desk and faced the students.

"I expect most of you have not even completed your Omnis Auxilium yet," he began with apparent disdain, "however, I want whatever you have brewed so far on your desks, now."

After the students pulled the containers out of their bags and placed them on their desks, Snape summoned them to the table before him with a wave of his wand. All eighteen potion bottles zoomed in the air, landing neatly before him one by one, clanking as they did. Draco resumed his curious inspection of Blaise, who was still staring at Granger's vacant seat with the same smug expression. As if reacting to his questioning look, the dark-skinned Slytherin turned to fix his dark eyes on him.

"I wonder where that big-mouthed mudblood is?" he hissed in the Head Boy's ear, the mockery in his voice insinuating some malevolent hint.

Draco deadpanned in response, shrugging nonchalantly for added effect, capitalizing on his Occlumency training. Could Blaise have done something to Granger to ensure that she did not show? He cringed as he thought about the look on his face when she was drunk and laying down on the couch unconsciously. There was nothing that he would put behind Blaise. He was a Slytherin and Slytherins always got what they wanted, no matter what, no matter which means. And when he considered what the various means could be, a shudder went down Draco's spine, tying his stomach in a knot.

"I want complete silence while I examine the potions," said Snape, interrupting his thoughts, and, bending over each potion bottle, he inspected each one with a frown on his sallow face.

After fifteen minutes of silence where Draco compulsively checked the door in the hope that Granger would enter in one piece and prayed that someone in the class was a better potioneer than he was, the Potions Master, rising from his seat, finally made his announcement:

"As I told you before, I did not anticipate any of you to brew the Omnis Auxilium potion accurately. However, one of you seems to have been able to accomplish it. Draco Malfoy?"

The Head Boy rose from his seat and shuffled towards the blackboard, curbing an impulse to check the door for Granger once more. When he dreamt about winning the Potions award, this was not what he had in mind. He was so worried about the Gryffindor girl that he couldn't even enjoy the fruits of his labor.

Snape pulled out a parchment and touched it with his wand and a long, neatly written script appeared on it.

"Here is a Letter of Recommendation for making an excellent batch of Omnis Auxilium, Mr. Malfoy," he offered, passing the parchment to Draco, and turned to pop open the bottle that was marked with Draco's name on it. After pouring some of the green liquid in it into a vial, he handed it to him.

"And here is your Omnis Auxilium," he added in his usual, monotonous tone. "Naturally, you will receive top marks for —"

Before Snape could finish his sentence, the class door flew open and a panting Granger stumbled in, her hair in a frizzy knot, looking thoroughly disheveled. Her eyes went wide with sudden understanding when she saw Draco with the parchment and the potion vial in his hand. Her mouth fell open in horror.

"How nice of you to join us, Miss Granger," Snape greeted her, his monotonous tone suddenly taking on a sarcastic lilt as the whole class turned to watch at her.

The Head Girl blanched.

"Five points will be deducted from Gryffindor for your tardiness. Now hand over your Omnis Auxilium and sit down!"

For a moment Granger seemed incapable of speech. She stood motionless, gaping at Draco and the vial in his hand.

"Well?" demanded Snape, holding his hand out to her.

After another moment's pause, "I-I'm s-sorry, sir," Granger finally managed to croak, "I don't have the potion with me. I-I can't find it…"

Snape glowered at her, malice glinting beneath his dark, beady eyes.

"What do you mean you can't find it, Miss Granger? Several weeks ago you've informed me that you've been working on it. Did you brew it or not?"

"I-I've brewed the potion, sir," Granger explained pleadingly, her raspy voice barely audible, "It was in my room… b-but it's gone now_…_"

Snape crossed his arms over his chest.

"As interesting as that story sounds, Miss Granger, I'm afraid I'm not buying it. Ten more points will be deducted from Gryffindor for making up tales to cover up your laziness and you will receive a 'T' —"

"But sir, I've made it, I swear… I just don't know where it could have g —"

"SIT DOWN, MISS GRANGER!"

The Head Girl's eyes filled with tears. As she made her way to her seat, her gaze on the floor and her shoulders drooped in resignation, the Potions Master addressed Draco once more.

"As I was saying before I was _rudely interrupted_, you will be receiving an 'O' for your efforts, Mr. Malfoy. Congratulations."

Snape spun around, waved his wand in a circular motion, and another potion's name and ingredients list materialized on the blackboard.

"You are to start on the Licensium Poenas potion," he announced, "It is used in households and hospitals as a potent pain reliever. The elements of the potion are written on the board —"

Snape suddenly stopped talking and glared in Granger's direction. His characteristic frown deepened.

"And there will be no need to talk, Mr. Potter!" he snapped, addressing Potter, who was whispering soothingly to a weeping Granger. "I'm sure you can console Miss Granger in your free time!"

Draco walked back to his seat, unable to take his eyes off the Gryffindor girl. She wiped her eyes with a handkerchief and shot him a petrified look. Although he was relieved to see that she was probably detained while looking for her lost potion and not hurt by Blaise, it didn't please Draco to watch her be bullied by Snape on front of the whole class. He was positive that she had made that potion and that she would never lie to a teacher about homework. After all, he had witnessed her putting in extra time in the dungeons on her own free time just to get the potion right. But the thing that bothered Draco the most was the fact that Granger was now his official personal slave. He had no doubt that Blaise would let the whole school know about the Unbreakable Vow if he had not done so already. Soon, he would be challenged by every Slytherin to treat her badly in public. When he sat down, he scanned Blaise's face with his peripheral vision and noted that he still wore the same smug expression.

"You wouldn't have anything to do with this mysterious disappearance of Granger's potion, would you?" Draco inquired in a low voice, trying to keep his tone as indifferent as possible.

"Me?" replied Blaise, placing his palm against his chest and tutting with mock indignation. "Where would you get an idea like that? I'm sure it's just plain bad luck. Too bad! She now has to be your slave until Christmas. I'm sure you'll think of ways to put that mudblood to good use. If you need any ideas, I already have some…"

He winked suggestively.

It took the use of all of his will power for Draco not to jump up and throttle Blaise with his bare hands. As he imagined the kind of ideas the Slytherin had in mind concerning the Gryffindor girl, his blood boiled. Nevertheless, he could not afford to reveal his true feelings. At least not yet…

Swallowing his fury, the Head Boy took a deep breath. As if he knew the kind of anger he caused in him, Blaise flashed him a provoking smile. He turned away to be able restrain himself, for seeing Blaise's sinister face one more second was surely going to land him in Azkaban prison. He instead took a quick glance at Granger, who glared at him for a split second and went back to focus on putting the ingredients of the Licensium Poenas in the cauldron before her. Though her eyes were red, her hands were steady and her chin stood high. She evidently already composed herself, quickly collected the ingredients that Snape listed on the blackboard, and started working on the pain reliever potion. Draco was simply amazed at the mental focus she was able to demonstrate at such a devastating moment. He had expected her to fall apart and yet there she was continuing her work with extraordinary tenacity. He shook his head in bewilderment as his respect for the Gryffindor witch rose to a whole new level.

The Head Boy rose from his seat, collected the ingredients he needed for the new potion from the cupboard, and began cutting them up on his wood board according to the instructions on the blackboard. Though he was couldn't wait to talk to Granger, to find out the details of what had happened, for now, all he could do was to chop his Devil's Claw roots violently and fight back the urge to bludgeon the wretched Slytherin sitting next to him with his own cauldron.

* * *

"Granger!"

"What?"

"We have to talk."

Without further ado, Draco yanked Granger by the arm and dragged her out of Potions class and away from Potter, whose protests were silenced by the Gryffindor girl.

"I'll meet you at the common room, Harry," she apologized to her friend, who stared at her with a mixture of disapproval and incredulity as she disappeared into an empty classroom with Draco. As soon as he slammed the door shut, she shook his hand off, dropping her backpack on the floor.

"Let go of me, Malfoy!"

The Head Boy immediately rounded on her.

"What were you thinking coming in so late this morning? What were you doing all this time?"

Granger's face twisted with indignation.

"I was doing the limbo on a bloody Caribbean cruise! What do you think I was doing? I was looking for my potion — as I've tried to explain to your horrible Slytherin Master. I've looked everywhere. It was in my room when I looked at it last and now it's GONE!"

"How — When did you last see it?"

"It was in my room on Saturday morning before we went out on Hogsmeade patrol."

"Then someone must've broken in while we were gone. Have you told any of your friends our dorm password this past week?"

Granger stood defiant, her hands crossed around her chest, her gaze locked into his.

"Of course not! I've come to the same conclusion about you — who did _you_ tell?"

Draco paused for an instant, reflecting, and then stumped his foot as a thought occurred to him.

"Damn! It must have been Blaise then —"

"You gave our password to someone like Zabini —"

"Of course I haven't!" Draco objected, jogging his memory to recall all possible stealthy entry to the Heads dorm. After a brief silence, he added: "I've given it to no one. He must have overheard me when we went in on Saturday night before you came with Thomas."

Granger groaned.

"_Overheard_ you? That's the same as _giving_ it to him, Malfoy!"

"I didn't know _this_ was going to happen, Granger. He's my bloody friend after all —"

"But wait…" the Head Girl cut in suspiciously, "How could he know that I kept the potion in my room?"

Draco sighed.

"Because you told him that before you agreed on the bet."

"What? I did — oh, no — oh, this is great! What am I going to do now?"

Granger began pacing in the room back and forth, rubbing her temples and mumbling to herself.

"How am I ever going to get that potion back from him? But I have to somehow… Somehow, I have to prove to Snape that I brewed that potion and maybe he'll —"

Draco protested her rambling with a growl.

"Will you forget about the bloody potion for a second? You'll never get it back from him now. Do you realize what just happened? You just became my slave! You lost the bet!"

Granger stopped dead in her tracks and gave him a strange, pensive look.

"Not necessarily…" she murmured and bit her bottom lip in deep thought.

"What do you mean _not necessarily_? I saw him do it. I saw the red flame shoot through his wand and encircle our hands. He bonded us well and proper, Granger."

"Well then, you know what to do to confirm that," the Head Girl suggested coming out of her reverie.

Draco stared at her for a moment, puzzled as to what to do.

"What's that?"

Granger gave him an "are-you-that-dumb" look.

"Give me an order!"

"Oh… What do you want me to order you to do?" Draco hesitated, feeling like an idiot for not grasping the simplicity of her suggestion.

The Head Girl shook her shoulders.

"I don't know… Give me a simple order. If I can't countermand it, we'll know that the binding spell is intact. But, mind you, if it's something inappropriate, I might have to do as you say, but then I'll have to kill you in your sleep or have one of my friends do it for me. Are we clear?"

Something in Granger's tone reminded Draco of the punch he received from her in their third year at Hogwarts and assured him that her threats were as substantiated as her power with or without a wand.

He threw his hands in the air in a defensive move.

"_Transparently_."

A hush suddenly fell over the room. The Gryffindor braced herself, her arms akimbo, her eyes flashing dangerously.

"Alright…" sighed Draco, and after taking a moment to deliberate, "Come and stand right before me_,_" he commanded her, his index finger indicating the ground before his feet.

For an instant, Granger looked as if she was hit by the Imperius curse. A dazed, almost peaceful expression fell on her features as she made to move towards him. After taking one step, however, she paused, her face twisted in concentration. It took her a split second to resume walking again, though her initial appearance was replaced by revulsion and annoyance. She stopped right before him, in the very spot he indicated with his index finger.

"So… It really works, huh?" Draco inquired, aware that his question was, at that point, rather rhetoric.

"Apparently so," Granger spat through clenched teeth, looking like she was vacillating between screaming and vomiting.

"Were you trying to fight off the spell for a second there?"

Granger nodded.

"I _did_ try to resist the spell. But it was pretty much impossible. It… It forced me to obey your orders."

"Oh well," chuckled Draco nervously, making an attempt to add levity to the grave situation at hand, "Now that we know it works, I'll try not to give you any nasty commands unwittingly."

But when he saw the furious look on her face, he stopped chuckling and cleared his throat. He was pretty sure that if he upset her enough, the Gryffindor witch _would_ kill him in his sleep.

"You're not going to give me _any_ kind of commands, Malfoy!" Granger snarled, waving a threatening finger at him. "I will _not_ be at your beck and call for the next three months if that's what you imagine!"

She picked up her backpack from the ground and marched towards the door. As she reached the exit, she halted and turned to look at him.

"If you think you can make me your slave, you'd better think again. I don't care what it takes, if you try the wrong thing with me, I _will_ make you pay for it!"

Granger walked out, slamming the door behind her.

Even though he sympathized with her frustration at being dominated in such a way, Draco couldn't deny the elation he felt as she obeyed his order. After losing control of his life for so long, having this kind of power over a girl he wanted so much was surprisingly intoxicating. Though he'd never planned for any of this to happen, the thought of having the Gryffindor girl under a spell to do anything he wanted from her was, to say the least, awfully tempting. He closed his eyes and imagined bidding Granger to kiss him… The obedient look on her face as she locked her lips with his… The way she would collapse into his arms as he tasted any part of her he desired…

Draco shook his head, snapping himself back to reality. If he attempted any of this with Granger, she'd most likely punch him in the nose and kick him in the groin before he could get the order out of his mouth. And it was probably a good idea to take a cold shower again before he was tempted to give another order to the Gryffindor witch that would lead him to being murdered in his own bed.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

All That Is Revealed

When she walked into the Gryffindor common room, Hermione found Harry, Ginny, and Ron huddled together, immersed in a heated conversation. Ron was the first to notice her presence.

"Hermione, I can't believe Snape was being such a wank —"

"Ron!" warned Ginny, "Watch your mouth."

"I'm just saying that that slimy git was way outta line talking to her as if she was a liar! Hermione would never lie to get out of doing homework. Hell, she would pay to do homework. I can't believe he took ten points from Gryffindor for that!"

"And to think that he docked us five extra points all because she was late for a class just once!" Harry added indignantly.

"What happened to your potion Hermione?" asked Ginny.

Hermione shook her head.

"I didn't know about it this morning but, a few minutes ago, I've found out what happened to it."

"From Malfoy?" asked Harry shrewdly.

"From Malfoy?" echoed Ron. "What's Malfoy got to do with any of this?"

Hermione hesitated, unable to come up with an immediate answer. She had hoped that it would never come to this. The last thing she wanted to do was to explain to her friends the particulars of past Saturday night but she at least had to tell them about the Unbreakable Vow. The Slytherins were bound to spread the news through the whole school by lunch time and she desperately needed the support of her friends at a time like this. She heaved a lungful of air to settle her nerves and launched her explanation:

"I think it's time that I tell you the truth about what really happened last Saturday night. When Dean and I went back to my dorm, Malfoy and Zabini were there as well. I'm not sure how the subject even got started but in my drunken stupor, I told them that I had the potion in my room. Evidently, I was challenged by Zabini and agreed to a bet with him that I would beat Malfoy to the Potions award. If I lost, I'd be Malfoy's slave until Christmas break and vice versa. Zabini bonded us with the Unbreakable Vow and then stole the potion from my room while I was hanging out with you yesterday. So here I am, stuck with a vow I cannot break, a 'T' in Potions, and lost fifteen points from Gryffindor."

Her friends gaped at Hermione, shell-shocked. For a long moment nobody spoke. The Head Girl shifted uncomfortably in her seat, searching their faces for a reaction.

"I'm really sorry I haven't told you about this before," she added, "I was sure that I would tie with Malfoy and… I guess I was ashamed to tell you about it…"

Her voice trailed away and her face became warm with embarrassment. After another moment of stunned silence, Harry said:

"You should've come to us earlier, Hermione. We could have helped out somehow. This might have been prevented."

"That's nonsense, Harry, and you know it," Ginny chimed in, offering Hermione a sympathetic look, "This is an Unbreakable Vow. What could we have done? No one could've foreseen this. We just have to deal with it as it comes now."

"You're — you're gonna be Malfoy's slave for the next couple months?" asked Ron, his green eyes wide with horror.

Hermione pursed her lips.

"It seems so, Ronald."

"Bloody hell! But — Hermione, he could do all kinds of things to you! I mean, what if... um… what if he —forces you to — you know?"

Ron cocked his head to one side suggestively.

"What do y —? Oh…" Hermione faltered and, as soon as she understood his meaning, her cheeks burned even more.

"He won't!" she protested, "He would never go _there_."

"But how do you know that for sure? Malfoy is not trustworthy in any regard, let alone _that_," Harry pointed out.

"I'm sure he won't, Harry. I _know_ that he will respect me in that regard. I will _make sure_ that he does. And if he doesn't —"

"We will kick the living daylights out of him!" snarled Ron.

"Exactly! So don't you guys worry. I will be okay as far as _that_ goes. Malfoy could even be sent to Azkaban if he forces me to do anything like that and I'm sure he knows it, too. Plus, he's not the type to force me into doing something indecent —"

"He's not the type? Hermione, he's the type of bloke who would do something _exactly_ like that!" remarked Ron.

"No, Ron, he's not! He's not… _that_ bad. I'm more concerned about my dignity than I am about my virtue. I'm afraid Malfoy will be ordering me around to do his homework or serve him like a house elf or something —"

"He's not _that _bad?" Ron persisted. "Are we even talking about the same person here? _Hello_? It's Malfoy! The pain in the arse Slytherin who called you names and tortured us in every possible evil way he could think of for the past seven years. Does that ring a bell?"

"For heaven's sake, Ron," sighed Hermione, "All I'm trying to say is that he's not bad enough that he'd try something like _that_."

"You know this is the second time you've stood up for that prat, I wonder —"

"Alright, Ron!" Ginny interrupted exasperatedly. "That's enough. Hermione's lived with the guy for the past month and if she says he's safe in that department, then she'll be okay. Let it be. We can focus on more important things now. First of all, I'm sure that the whole school knows by now about what happened so we have to get you ready to cope with this. Our house, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws will be okay and probably even feel sorry for you but it's the Slytherins we have to worry about. Don't mind anything that they say Hermione. Brush it off if they pick on you. If they see that they can't get your goat, they'll leave you alone. And if Malfoy tries anything openly, I'll use him as a practice dummy for my Bat Bogey hex. I've been itching to do it again anyway."

Ginny flashed a mischievous smile.

"Yeah, and if he tries anything behind our backs, you can always go to McGonagall," suggested Harry. "He's not supposed to do anything inappropriate now that he's the Head Boy. She'll come down on him even harder for that. You know how she is…"

Even though she was cornered by Ron for a few uncomfortable minutes, Hermione felt grateful for the support her friends showed her in this time of need. Once she got past her embarrassment, having Ron and Harry look after her like brothers was like medicine for her and, not to mention having Ginny, who was always like a sister she could always count on to get her out of tight spots. She was ready to go down to the Great Hall for lunch and face the music, come what may.

"I can't thank you enough for helping me get through this mess," said Hermione, beaming at all of them.

"No problem," said Harry.

Ron stared at her skeptically but said nothing more.

"Come on, let's go down to lunch. I'm starving," chirped Ginny, and they all got up and walked down to the first floor.

As they entered the Great Hall, Hermione braced herself. A symphony of whispers flooded her ears. Every single student at every table turned to gawk at her. Some were pointing and some were talking loudly about her as if she was not even there.

"I've heard that she was real trashed…"

"I've heard that she tried to lie to get out of it…"

"They say she might be expelled…"

As they settled down to their usual spot at the Gryffindor table, they heard a shrill voice behind them pierce the air: "Hey Granger, eat fast! You gotta wash Draco's socks after lunch!"

Pansy Parkinson started cackling at her own words and was immediately joined by a large group of Slytherins. Malfoy, who was sitting between Pansy and one of his cronies, Vincent Crabbe, kept on eating, pretending not to have heard any of it.

Just when Hermione was tempted to run out of the hall, Ron whispered in her ear.

"Just ignore the stupid gits, 'Mione."

He patted her back.

The Head Girl nodded and straightened up her posture. Ron was right. She wasn't going to allow the Slytherins to ruin her day more than it had already been. Her friends were supporting her through this ordeal and that was more than enough strength she needed to endure it. And when she recalled that Harry had been going through this his whole life, people pointing at him, mocking him, and gossiping about him, she felt a sudden affinity with the raven-haired boy sitting across her. He beamed and winked at her encouragingly. Hermione smiled and tucked into the chicken casserole before her. To hell with the Slytherins!

* * *

After she got back from an early dinner followed by a two-hour study session, Hermione threw herself on the sofa in her common room, kicking off her shoes and propping her feet up on the arm rest. All she wanted to do was to drink a glass of cold water, sink into a bathtub full of hot, bubbling water, and not come out until all of the Death Eaters moved back to England. As she looked around for the water jug that usually sat on the coffee table, she suddenly remembered that she had a Heads meeting with McGonagall before she went out on patrol with Malfoy. Grumbling about her Head duties for the first time in her life, she put her shoes back on and rushed down to the first floor of the castle. When she arrived, she found Malfoy waiting for her outside the Deputy Head Mistress' office.

"Another Caribbean cruise?" the Slytherin asked wryly, leaning against the doorsill.

"What?"

Malfoy grinned.

"You're late again, Granger. Are you planning on making this a habit?"

"Oh, shut up, Malfoy," Hermione whispered, "In case you haven't noticed, I've had a long, horrible day."

She knocked on the door and McGonagall's stern response from behind the door resounded even more forbidding than usual.

"Come in!"

Hermione walked through the door at the same time Malfoy stepped forward to do the same. As both of them ended up in the entrance simultaneously, they got stuck in-between the door frames. Hermione instinctively made a move to step back. Malfoy, however, did the strangest thing he'd ever done: He swiftly turned sideways and backed up out of the doorway.

"Ladies first," he said, gesturing with his palm, as Hermione gawked at him, stunned by his unusual behavior. Why was he so polite all of a sudden? And why did his moods change as often as the clouds moved in the September sky? Didn't they just finish yelling at each other only this morning? The Head Girl walked in, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Good evening, Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall greeted both students and nodded them to sit down in the two chairs in front of her desk. After they greeted her back and took their seats, the professor turned to Hermione.

"Miss Granger," she began, looking her from behind her glasses, "I'd like to talk to you about some of the rumors that have been circulating the school today. Naturally, I ignore them as a rule; however, since they involved my Head students and were quite alarming in nature, I've decided to make an exception. I sincerely hope that these rumors are false."

Hermione felt like her head had just been shoved into boiling water. In her chaotic state, she forgot about the teachers getting a hold of Zabini's story.

"I have been told," McGonagall continued, "that you have shaken hands on a bet sealed by an Unbreakable Vow with Mr. Malfoy while you were both drunk past Saturday night. I have also heard that you, Miss Granger, have lost the bet and now have to serve Mr. Malfoy as his personal slave until Christmas break."

The professor threw an angry look at Malfoy, who shifted in his seat nervously.

"I was shocked to hear that not only were both of you drunk at the time, but that both of you did something as foolish as employing the Unbreakable Vow. Are these rumors true, Miss Granger?"

Hermione could not bear to look into McGonagall's eyes; instead, she focused her gaze on her own fidgety hands.

"It… It is true Professor," she replied feebly, "I — we… it just happened…"

McGonagall paused for a moment. Hermione could feel her eyes scanning every inch of her face.

"I see," she said, pushing her glasses back on her nose in an irritated fashion. "Miss Granger that is hardly the kind of conduct I would expect from my Head Girl. And you, too, Mr. Malfoy. I would have thought that both of you were mature enough to understand the scope your responsibilities as Head students. You two are _model _students. Or at least you're _supposed_ to be and are therefore subject to higher standards than other students. Getting intoxicated and fooling around with powerful magic can be grounds for expelling any Hogwarts student, let alone you two. That being said, I would like to hear from your own mouths that you will never display this type of behavior again or, mark my words, I will have your Head privileges revoked _and _have you expelled. Miss Granger?"

"Yes, Professor," Hermione avowed, her cheeks hot with embarrassment, "I'm so very sorry. This will never happen again."

"And you, Mr. Malfoy?" asked McGonagall, a deep line of disapproval now creasing her forehead.

"It will not happen again, Professor," the Head Boy replied in a sincere tone.

Hermione stole a quick glance at Malfoy and was puzzled over his behavior once more. Why was he not sneering or putting on cocky airs when speaking with the Gryffindor Mistress, as it was his custom of many years? There was a definite change in the Slytherin wizard, but she just couldn't locate the source of it or predict its permanency.

"Very well," McGonagall assented, though her tone reflected signs of reluctance and mistrust. "And now I would like to address another matter at hand: As you both know. After Voldemort's demise, things have been quite peaceful in the magical community as a whole. However, I do hope that you both can still appreciate the importance of inter-house unity. It is vital that traditionally competitive houses such as Gryffindor and Slytherin show team spirit and work together without judgment and enmity. You two are the representatives of these houses and, as model students, I require that each of you display an attitude that reflects that team spirit and make every effort to coexist without hostility. Now I do not have any wish to act as a referee for every single squabble between you two. You are both of age and should be able to resolve personal conflicts without the aid of your teachers. As such, I am sure that you two already know about the birds and the bees, I hardly think I need to explain to you the extent of my concerns about a young girl being bound to a boy magically to do his bidding, particularly when a young girl and a young boy share the same dormitory."

McGonagall gazed threateningly into Malfoy's eyes.

"Mr. Malfoy, do listen to this and listen to it carefully: If I hear from Miss Granger or anyone else that you have employed the binding force of the Unbreakable Vow to treat her ill or inappropriately in any way, I will _personally_ make sure that you receive just punishment, whether this be an academic penalty or a sentence in Azkaban. Understood?"

"Yes, Professor," Malfoy answered as sincerely as before, though clearly flustered.

"Very well then," said McGonagall dismissively," I have nothing further to speak with you about at this point. You may leave to patrol the corridors. Good night."

She took up a quill and began writing on a large parchment in front of her.

Both students offered her a polite leave-taking and hurried out of the office before she could offer any more reproof. They paced the winding hallways in tense silence, sent a couple of third years back to bed, and finally arrived at their dorm. As they approached the portrait at the entrance, they found Dean standing in front of it. Hermione shot a nervous glance at Malfoy — fearful of his quick temper. The last thing that she needed after such a dreadful day was to get into another row with Malfoy, especially in front of Dean. However, much to her surprise, the Slytherin simply uttered the password and walked in without looking back at them.

"Hi Dean," Hermione said, reluctant to engage in an extensive dialogue. She was in no mood to talk to anyone and was extremely parched. All she wanted was a glass of cold water, a hot bath, and a warm bed… in that order.

"Hi Hermione," replied Dean. "I've heard the news. Is it true that —?"

"Yes, it's true Dean," said Hermione, fatigue and frustration of the whole day seeping into her voice. "But don't worry. It's fine. I have it under control."

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay," explained Dean, grasping her impatience.

"Thank you for your concern. I'm okay. It's just that it's been a very long day. Would you mind if I just get back in? I'm exhausted."

"Sure, no problem. Look, if you need me Hermione, I'm here for you. Especially if Malfoy tries anything foul —"

"Thanks, but I'll be fine," Hermione cut in with strained civility and a forced smile, "If I need you, I'll let you know."

Dean bowed his head.

"Okay. I'll see you tomorrow then."

As he strolled away, the Gryffindor girl entered the common room.

Malfoy had already lit up the fireplace and was settled on the sofa, his legs stretched out, his hands folded on his neck in a relaxed position. As she walked over to coffee table and looked around for the water jug, he watched her curiously.

"What are you looking for?"

"The water jug. It's usually here on the table."

"Dippy must have removed it for some reason. Shall I fetch your boyfriend and have _him_ bring you a glass of water, Granger?"

Malfoy flashed a teasing smile. Hermione moaned inwardly. Dean _did_ have a penchant for showing up at the wrong time.

"He's not my boyfriend, Malfoy, and I am perfectly capable of —"

Before she could finish her sentence, the Slytherin boy had already snapped out his wand, conjured a glass out of thin air, and offered it to her. She didn't know why, but for some reason, his new and sudden politeness made Hermione feel more edgy. She resentfully accepted the glass, waved her wand to pour water into it, and thought: "_Aguamenti_!" Her wand, however, instead of dispensing water into the glass, started spraying her like powerful fire hose. As she tried to contain the outpour, she tried to say: "_Finite Incantatem_" but the words just sounded like a drowned out gurgle. After she struggled a few seconds against the torrential flow, the water abruptly stopped squirting from the end of her wand. Malfoy began laughing at her hysterically, pointing a finger and holding his stomach. Hermione felt anger rise to her head. Not only was she soaked but she was also humiliated in front of the Slytherin boy, unable to even perform the simplest of spells.

"Shut up, Malfoy!" she spat and stomped over to her bedroom. The Head Boy doubled up, tears streaming from his eyes.

"This is why you don't perform rudimentary magic when you're cheesed off, Granger," he said, half-crying, half-talking.

When she closed the door, he yelled after her, still in hysterics.

"Oh come now, Granger. Don't be so upset. It could happen to anybody!"

Hermione, though she could hear him, ignored his comments and started taking off her wet clothes.

"Here, I'll — dry off — everything," Malfoy offered, laughing in between every word. "You should have some water — Granger!"

Hermione, however, had already removed her robe, socks, and shoes, and, wearing only her undies, headed towards the shower, ignoring the Slytherin.

"Granger!" Malfoy called after her again, "I didn't wanna upset you! Come back out here and let me give you some water!

It was when she was grabbing a towel off the wall rack did Hermione feel the magical tug of the bidding in her core. Before she could stop herself, she turned to walk towards her bedroom door in total mortification. She resisted the Unbreakable Vow's pull with all her might but, in the end, all she did was slow her pace down for a second or two. She opened the door and stepped out into the common room in her wet, pink, lacy bra and knickers. As soon as he saw her, Malfoy's hysterics abruptly ceased. His jaw dropped.

"_MALFOY, YOU IDIOT_!" Hermione screamed. "What are you calling me out here for?"

Her embarrassment tripled when the Slytherin boy, instead of giving her an answer or making an effort to look away, stood there motionless, gawping at her body up and down. Hermione tried to escape to her room, now that she obeyed his order, but she could not move. Apparently, Malfoy's will was still bending hers. So she helplessly remained in her spot and watched Malfoy's first look of shock turn into total admiration. As their eyes met, her stomach did a back flip. Instinctively, she looked down and tried to cover her chest and abdomen with her bare arms. She tried to speak but her tongue seemed to be tied. After a lingering moment, she finally managed to say:

"You need to release me."

But Malfoy seemed unable to do anything. It was as if they swapped places and Malfoy was the one in her thrall.

"Malfoy, for heaven's sake, dismiss me!" Hermione insisted, and this time, managed to say it with a lot more force. This order appeared to have brought the Head Boy out of his enchantment.

"Y-you may go," he stammered, still looking dazed and marveled.

Without wasting any time, Hermione rushed back into her room. After a quick shower, she got under the covers of her magnificent four-poster bed and closed her eyes, making an attempt to sleep. But sleep was impossible...

The image of Malfoy appraising her body kept drifting to the surface of her mind. She felt a familiar yet uneasy sensation in her stomach as she envisioned his admiring eyes roam all over her almost naked, wet body. To dispel her discomfort, the Head Girl tried to think about the N.E. but couldn't think of a subject. She tried to think about the Slytherins and their taunts and jeers but found that she didn't care. And, after trying to redirect her thoughts in a myriad of ways, Hermione realized that she could no longer disregard the sensation in her abdomen or stamp out the blonde Slytherin from her mind. Malfoy was there to stay.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

S.P.D.W.

When Draco entered his bedroom, he simply stared blank for a few minutes, stunned by what he had just seen. He always thought Granger was a pretty girl but he had never in his wildest dreams pictured her looking the way she did in her undergarments. She had the habit of wearing the standard school robes, lounging robes, or some other casual ones that covered all of her curves. The night in the Room of Requirement, he had seen her in pajamas, but those were not exactly form-fitting either. Therefore, Draco had no idea what the Gryffindor girl really looked like under all those piles of fabric. He couldn't believe how gorgeous her body was! She had a beautiful chest, the tiniest waist, and the most exquisite legs he had ever laid eyes on. How teasingly those undergarments hid the rest of her assets from his hungry eyes. And her alabaster skin looked so smooth, so flawless, so touchable, so edible…

The Slytherin plopped himself on his green silk comforter and gazed at the ceiling. As he imagined the way she looked at him with her big brown eyes and the way she tried to hide her nakedness in her innocence, his heart started to pump in his throat. If she had walked out of her room and struck up a sultry pose for him, he wouldn't have been this attracted to her. Draco was actually turned on by her timidity even more so than if she had been blatantly sexual. If only he could just remove those meddlesome pieces of pink lace from her body and explore her skin with his tongue…

_I can't believe I'm doing this to myself again_! Draco jumped off the bed, pulled out his wand from his inside pocket, and started circling the room like a caged animal, trying to think of a spell that could help him curb his feelings for Granger, at least temporarily. He'd promised himself that he would try to free his mind of all unnecessary thoughts, including the ones about the Gryffindor girl, before he went to bed every night. And since he was an accomplished Occlumens, it was easy for him to empty his mind without much effort. But the fact that Granger was merely on the other side of the common room, lying down in her warm bed, wearing Merlin-knows-what was driving him crazy. If he dwelled on her any longer, he would be at her door the next moment, ordering her to open. Of course, this would be the same as knocking on death's door, as she would definitely murder him after she let him in. _And if she doesn't, McGonagall would,_ Draco thought bitterly. He really hated being the good guy.

Realizing that there was nothing he could do magically or otherwise to stop thinking about Granger, the Slytherin threw his wand on the bed and dropped down on his hands and knees. Cold shower just wasn't going to cut it this time. This particular situation would require a much more effective relief. He began doing push-ups, grunting with each upward thrust. One, two, three…

* * *

It was late Friday night when Draco headed to his house common room after he changed out of his Quidditch robes to meet up with his friends in the Slytherin common room. Snape had asked McGonagall to excuse him from his nightly patrol so he could put in the extra practice which turned out to be a long and dismal one where he frequently had to rebuke Crabbe and Goyle for their incompetence. His busy week outside of classes involved either doing homework or practicing Quidditch. Since the Gryffindor match was on Saturday, the Hogsmeade weekend was cancelled, so he was also excused from his village patrol duties. He'd seen Granger only when they ate at the Great Hall and when they patrolled at nights. By a coincidence or a sub-conscious effort, Draco couldn't tell which, they never saw each other in the common room nor were they alone anywhere. For this, he was somewhat grateful. Since Monday night's incident, there had been irremediable tension between them. When they patrolled the corridors, they did not talk about anything other than sharing of necessary information concerning Head duties. Their dialogues were short and to the point and their basic communication only consisted of grunts or nods.

Granger seemed to be just as busy as Draco. The sofa and the table in the common room were buried under her school books along with all kinds of literature about house elves. Apparently, while he was putting in extra time for Quidditch, she was doing the same for her research on these creatures. He had heard about her attempts to campaign for her organization, Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare or S.P.E.W., in their fourth year. Draco could never understand why Granger was so obsessed with the house elves. He didn't exactly like the way these poor creatures were treated either but noone could help them because the elves actually _loved_ serving the wizard kind. What kind of difference could she make with this S.P.E.W. thing?

Immersed in these thoughts, the Slytherin barely noticed reaching the entrance of his old dormitory. He gave the password Pansy Parkinson had given him earlier to the portrait on the doorway, "Grandeur!", and walked in to find Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson, and Zabini relaxing on the large sofas in front of the fireplace. Parkinson immediately stood up and shrieked as if she had just seen a dear friend she hadn't seen in a decade: "Draco, my love! Where have you been?"

She patted the space right beside her on the sofa, signaling him to sit down. The Head Boy ignored her typical hyperbole and proceeded to settle beside her. As he examined the scene, he observed the numerous empty food wrappings strewn across the coffee table opposite the sofa that Crabbe and Goyle were dozing off on; which was an indication that his large cronies were surfeited after their usual gluttonous before-bed sweet consumption. While Pansy doted on him, panting like a puppy whose owner just came home after a long day, Zabini saluted him with a dirty look which Draco matched with an even dirtier one. The two Slytherins nodded at each other in an icy manner.

"How was the practice, sweetie?" asked Pansy.

"Could've been better if Crabbe and Goyle hauled their arses across the field and hit a bludger for a change!" Draco snapped loudly, addressing his teammates, hoping to wake them up.

Except for Crabbe and Goyle kept snoring away, their heads propped up against one another's, their big feet sprawled across the littered coffee table.

"Aaaw, I'm sorry, honey," purred Pansy. "I don't think you have anything to worry about. I'm sure you're gonna beat that scarhead even if these two don't play well."

She began stroking his shaggy blonde hair. Draco said nothing and continued glowering at Crabbe and Goyle.

"Aaaw baby, cheer up!" Pansy squeaked, caressing his chin, but the Head Boy just turned his head away to shake off her hand. He didn't even know why he came down to spend time with his old associations anymore. All they did was get on his nerves.

"I know what would make you feel better," Pansy nudged him, whispering in his ear. "You could call that mudblood slave of yours over here and we'll make her do things to amuse us."

Draco turned to glower at her this time.

"No."

Pansy looked taken aback.

"But why?" she asked, using the whiny tone she used when she couldn't get what she wanted.

"I said no."

The finality of Draco's rejection alarmed Pansy. She drew away from him, a look of censure and accusation wrinkling her face.

"Why not?" she insisted, the whine in her tone now replaced with cantankerousness.

"Because I don't need McGonagall or Dumbledore on my arse, that's why."

"You mean because you're scared of that mudblood," Zabini broke in matter-of-factly.

"Scared?" laughed Draco. "Scared of that little girl? I could hex her all the way to the hospital wing if I want to."

"Then why don't you do it and order her to be quiet about the whole thing?" asked Zabini. "You mean to tell me that Draco Malfoy cannot think of ways to secretly torture a worthless mudblood who is magically bound to fulfill any of his wishes?"

When Draco did not answer back, he added: "Or are your reasons much more than just a fear of teachers?"

As the Head Boy opened his mouth to respond, he was interrupted by a Slytherin girl who suddenly rushed down the stairs of the dormitories. She halted in front of the group, weeping uncontrollably. The top of her head was burnt, her hair had singed down to her scalp, and she seemed to be in considerable amount of pain.

"P-Pansy, c-come and help me, p-please," she begged as everyone gaped at her in shock.

"Good Merlin, Odessa! What happened to you?" inquired Pansy.

"I-I was trying to p-perm my hair," the poor girl sobbed, "I d-don't know what happened. My h-hair just caught on fire! Please, help me p-put it r-right — I d-don't know what to do."

Pansy threw Draco and Zabini a resentful look, as if she didn't want to leave in the middle of an increasingly enigmatic dialogue between the two boys. However, when Odessa began wailing at the top of her lungs, she stood up and ushered her friend to the hospital wing.

"Saved by the bell, Draco?" Zabini asked once the two girls were out of sight.

"I don't need saving, Blaise," replied Draco, taking this as his cue to leave.

But before he could get up, Zabini shot up and towered over him.

"Then answer my question, Draco! Why haven't you tortured that mudblood yet?"

Draco leaped to his feet in response and the two boys faced down, toe-to-toe, their noses almost touching.

"What I do and don't do with my slave is none of your business, Blaise," Draco snarled. Besides, how do you know I haven't done anything yet?"

"What have you done to her already that you can't reveal in front of Parkinson?" Zabini asked with an undertone. "Could it be that you _took her for a test ride_ privately before you use her in public?"

"I have no desire to _take her for a test ride_ and —"

"Then why were you all over that filthy, repulsive mudblood like a faithful guard dog when she was drunk? I'm sure the Slytherins would love to find out —"

"If she is so filthy and repulsive," cut in Draco, "then why were _you_ slobbering all over her like a horny skrewt when she was drunk? I'm sure the Slytherins would love to find out!"

Zabini seemed to have been caught off guard with this comment. He backed away a step and stared daggers at the Head Boy.

"I suggest you keep your big mouth shut or, one of these days, _I_ will shut it for you," Draco hissed through gritted teeth. "_Permanently_!"

The two Slytherins glared at each other for a few minutes, their hands in their pockets, ready to draw their wands. Zabini was the first to break the eye contact. He turned and headed to the stairs of the boys' dorm. Draco shot one final glance at the still snoozing Crabbe and Goyle to ensure that they did not hear any part of the row with Zabini and left to return to his dorm.

As he walked up to the fifth floor, the Head Boy reflected on the night's events. As he analyzed the situation carefully, he concluded that his reputation, at least for the time being, was safe. He knew that Zabini would not be spreading rumors about him any time soon since his own reputation would also be called into question. Draco was certain that he was safe as long as he had something to trade in. Zabini would look out for his interests and protect Draco's, as long as they were the same. The young wizard heaved a sigh of disappointment. This was the way of the Slytherins; as was the way of all of his friends.

* * *

When the Head Boy returned to his common room, he found Granger and Thomas pouring over a bunch of books at the table in front of the bookshelves. The Head Girl was so engulfed in her reading that she didn't even register his presence.

"Have you found anything on the slavery spells or maybe the kind of Unbreakable Vows that can be transferred through blood lines?" she asked Thomas without lifting her head.

"No. Just a bunch of stuff about the spells that help you get the best use out of your House Elves and —"

As he saw Draco, Thomas stopped speaking. Granger seemed to have finally noticed him too, for she took a quick, nervous glance at him and then dropped her head to resume her reading.

"— and some brief information on the psychology of House Elves' self-punishment," added Thomas, completing his sentence.

_Huh! So he's pretending to be interested in Granger's S.P.E.W. thing just to weasel his way in_, thought Draco. He was exhausted and needed a good night's sleep to prepare for the Gryffindor match. But he just didn't want to go back to his room and leave Granger alone with Thomas at that time of night, especially with her bedroom being in such close proximity. The pangs of jealousy clawed their way from his chest to his brain and bid his feet to move towards the shelves. Feigning indifference towards the two Gryffindors, Draco randomly picked out a book and settled down on the sofa facing their table. He pretended to read as he pricked his ears, patiently waiting and listening to the sounds in the room which were only of turning of the pages. After what felt like a quarter of an hour, Granger broke the silence:

"I think this may be what we're looking for. It says here that the author used _The Complete History of House Elves, Fifteenth Edition_ as a reference book. Apparently, they recently added some more information dating back to seven hundred B.C."

"I guess we'll have to see if they have that in the library then," said Thomas.

Granger yawned, stretching one of her arms out wide and covering her mouth with the back of another.

"I think I'm going to call it a night, Dean. I'm beat."

"Yeah, me too," agreed Thomas. "But before I go, I was wondering what you're doing after the match tomorrow. I was thinking that maybe we could watch it together and hang out at Hogsmeade afterwards."

_The opportunistic bastard_! _He's doubling up on dates so he can lock her down for the entire day! _thought Draco, clenching his fist and continuing to turn the pages of his book with no other outward signs of distress.

"I don't know, Dean," Granger hesitated, "I have so much homework to catch up on to blow off a Saturday. I was thinking of going to the library."

Draco guffawed inwardly.

_Ha! Score zero, LOSER!_

"We can do that, too," Thomas put in hurriedly, "We can go to the library and I'll help you search through that _History of House Elves_ book while you do your studies."

The Slytherin stifled a scoff.

_Oh, please! This dork is _so_ desperate!_

"Um… okay. I guess that could work," relented Granger.

_What? That's bollocks! I can't _believe_ that pathetic move worked! What is she trying to do now? Organize a Society for the Promotion of Dorks' Welfare?_

"Great! I'll see you tomorrow, then," said Thomas, rising up, and headed towards the door.

"See you," Granger called after him before he walked out of the portal.

As Granger cleared the mess on the table and stacked up the books neatly, Draco remained in his seat, still pretending to be completely absorbed in the book he was holding. After grabbing all of the parchments from the table, the Gryffindor went to her bedroom door without saying a word to him. As soon as her door closed, Draco threw his book on the table and headed to his chamber. Once he got in, he immediately began formulating his battle plans for the next day. There was no way in nine hells he was going to let Thomas move in on Granger without a fight. Watching the Gryffindor boy steal away so much of her time, especially in his own common room, was a major blow to his ego, not to mention his feelings. His sudden and unexpected change of heart towards Granger threw him off balance for a while but it was high time he regained his footing and switched his strategy. He made a pact with himself a while ago that he would no longer deal with his problems like a whimpering child; and that was a promise he intended to keep. This time, Draco was going to handle the situation in his rediscovered way.

The Slytherin way.


End file.
